


Silas Marner

by angel1972



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Black Widow (Comics), Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, X-Men Origins: Wolverine (2009)
Genre: Abandonment, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Peggy Carter, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M, Families of Choice, Fix-It, Gen, Harm to Children, Kid Natasha Romanov, Not Beta Read, Off screen, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, The Red Room is a lost circle of hell, Unconventional Families, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 00:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 29,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel1972/pseuds/angel1972
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Russians thought they had failed at creating their own supper-soldier, but they were wrong. One lone girl survived, she was stronger, faster, and smarter than most adults. And she was completely alone. After Steve's death, Peggy Carter suffered through her own loss, alone.  But when she found Natasha, they both found that family wasn't always the one you were born in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chaper 1

Silas Marner.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of Marvel LLC and Disney and are being used without the express permission for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended, nor is any profit being made.

A/N: While the story was proofread several times by myself, no beta was used in the making of this story, please pardon any missed typos and/or grammatical errors.

The title of the story is from one of my favorite books: Silas Marner, by George Eliot.

 

~OOOOOO~

“In old days there were angels who came and took men by the hand and led them away from the city of destruction. We see no white-winged angels now. But yet men are led away from threatening destruction: a hand is put into theirs, which leads them forth gently towards a calm and bright land, so that they look no more backward; and the hand may be a little child's.”   
― George Eliot, Silas Marner 

Peggy Carter was not unaffected by what she was seeing, not by a long shot. She was just better, more practiced, at hiding it. 

And she had better be.

She was a woman, after all, living and working in a man's world. She had to be smarter, harder and just plain better than every man, or she might as well go home, put on an apron, and start baking cookies.

Still, the scent was overpowering, like meat that had been left in the sun all day and was now rotten and rancid. The smell, left to concentrate in the closed-off space bombarded their noses and mouths, and clung to their skin and clothes once the doors were opened. 

'I thought the Russians were suppose to be good guys,' she heard one of the men grouse. She could hear other men retching in the background, and could taste her own bile rising. 

Because as bad as the smell was, the view was worse. Small bodies, dozens upon dozens of them, were strewn about the large colosseum-type room like they were nothing but trash. Their eyes were wide open, and she could read the terror in them as clearly as if it were words stamped on their foreheads. 

They were all little girls, their ages were indeterminate, but Peggy would hazard a guess that most if not all were prepubescent. They were redheads, brunettes, and blondes, curled and straight-haired with skin tones that ranged from pale ivory to olive to deeply tanned. But not one of them, Peggy noted, had an once of baby fat on them, anywhere. Their bodies were lean and toned; their faces looked far more mature than any child should be.

The brunette briefly closed her eyes, and said a prayer that there was in deed a merciful god. And that these poor, young souls would know the peace in death that was clearly denied them in life. 

Moments later she straightened her back, and turned her attention to the men milling about with their weapons drawn. They were hardened soldiers who had spent their years either fighting Nazis or Hydra, or both, and yet they were allowed to show emotions where she was not. There were several pairs of red-rimmed eyes, their owners doing their best to remain stoic. 

'All right gentlemen,' she started. She broke the group into teams of two, (patently ignoring any offers of help) and had them take different areas of what was left of the Red Room Academy's sprawling campus, leaving herself alone as was her preference these days. 

After Steve's death, Peggy felt restless and empty. She worked alone more often than not. She took assignments meant for three and four man teams, not because she had some kind of death-wish, but because she wanted/needed to feel/remind herself that she was alive. That life went on, that there were still evil men in the world that needed to be killed. That Steve's sacrifices were not made in vain, and that even now he sits in heaven, looks down and thinks; that's my girl.

(This was the lie she told her self everyday. It was a pretty lie that hid a painful, ugly truth.)

She left the room, and strode out onto a cobbled pathway that led to a smaller building a quarter of a mile away. The night breeze felt good against her heated skin, and she was able to breathe clearly again. She inhaled, and exhaled deep shuddering breaths. Now that she was alone, she allowed her iron mask to slip, and a look of pain flickered across her face.

'Those children,' she muttered. 'Those poor damned children.'

High above, the pale moon stared down at her dispassionately, it was full and bright, causing the trees to cast eerie shadows across the path, across her face and body. Once or twice she heard rustling in the bushes, and when she shone her light over to the sound, she could have sworn she saw pale skin, and a shock of red hair flash by at impossible speeds.

She shook her head to clear it, and then continued on her way. Her hand touched her sidearm, the cold metal providing comfort, and security. The torch in her left hand made wide arcing sweeps of the pathway, and the woods framing it.

There was no way, she told herself, that there was anyone outside of herself and her troops in the compound. Certainly nothing human. Her mind was playing games with her, or maybe she saw a ghost. (She had seen stranger things in her career than restless spirits.)

There was no way that anyone could have survived such whole scale slaughter. The Russians, if nothing else were efficient, they would not allow a witness to survive and possibly reveal what monstrous experiments were being performed on these girls in the name of national security. 

She also doubted there was a single file, or scrap of paper carelessly left behind, detailing anything that had been going on here. 

But, if the head of the SSR wanted the place searched from top to bottom, then that was exactly what she, and her men were going to do.

There were rumors that the Russians were jealous of the great success of Captain America, and were trying to perfect their own super-soldier serum. But, unlike the SSR, they were planning for something long term, lest they would have picked a few of their best adult, male troops, given them the shot, and then sent them out to fight the Nazis and Hydra. Instead, according to SSR sources, this Academy was both lab, and training grounds to what they hoped would be a small army of amazonian warriors. 

They're planning for a different kind of war, Peggy thought. One not fought out in the open with guns blazing on the battlefield, but stealthily, in the bedroom, under the cover of night, and in dark alleyways. 

She finally reached the building, a squat, square brick and wooden structure. On the door was a scarlet hourglass that reminded the brunette of the black widow spider. Is that what they were doing, she wondered. Turning a crop of girls into deadly little spiders? Assassins for the state?

She pushed the door open, and as it swung inward she freed her gun from its holster, and released the safety, but kept it at her side. She stood at the entrance for a count of five, and then stepped in. 

The room was large, but had very few windows, and they were high and bared. Row after row of bunk beds were revealed to Peggy by the beam of her flashlight. Doing quick math she was able to figure out that there was at least 100 of them. One hundred little girls, alone and frightened and being put through some kind of hellish training regimen. 

The brunette walked up and down the rows, making the mental note that all the beds had been neatly made, military style, corners sharp, and not a single wrinkle. She bet she could bounce a quarter off them. She continued walking, the sound of her heels on wooden floor the only sound being made. She wasn't sure what she was looking for, there was no chance that there would be any kind of files in the girls' dormitory. 

By the time she got to the top of the last row, she was thinking she had wasted enough time and was ready to call it day. But that was when Peggy heard a tiny whimper. She stood stock still thinking she had imagined it, but not 10 seconds later she heard it again. It was coming from under the bunk beds, and it reminded the woman of a wounded kitten. 

She placed her flashlight on the ground so that it was illuminating the underside of the bed, while leaving an arm free to defend herself. The arm with the gun tensed, and her body was wired. It could be a kitten, it could also be a trap. 

What Peggy saw when she bent to look, nearly took her breath away. There was a little girl, no older than five, staring at her with impossibly large green eyes huddled as tightly as she could in the corner of the room. At first she thought the little girl was just extremely dirty, but upon closer inspection, the brunette realized the girl's body was covered in soot and burns. 

She must be in so much pain, Peggy thought. But what was even more miraculous than her survival, and her pain tolerance was that right before the brunette's eyes the little girls injuries were healing. Slowly, but surely new, pink skin was forming.

'The serum worked,' Peggy said quietly, and then shook her head. There are more important things to worry about. She tried to move closer to the girl, but the child moved deeper into the corner, her whimpering became agitated, her breathing was labored, and her face was twisted in a grimace of pain. 

The little girl was panicking, so Peggy stopped moving. She hiked her skirt up a bit and sat on the ground, not caring on how unladylike she looked. There was a mere three feet separating the two females, and they each stared at the other, studying, and waiting for the other to make a move. 

'Sweetheart, I'm not going to hurt you. I promise. The bad people who did this are long gone,' Peggy said in Russian, her voice soft. She hadn't used that tone since her brother was baby, and she used to make up songs to help him sleep.

The girl blinked at her owlishly, but didn't move. She stared at the woman's gun wearily. Even though her voice was soft, and gentle, the child knew what the brunette's weapon could do to flesh and bone. She had seen enough girls' body bleed out on cold tile floors as the men in white coats tsked, and called them failures.

'You must be in a lot pain,' Peggy continued. She made a show putting of putting the safety on her gun, and then she put it back in its holster. 'I'm not going hurt you,' she repeated. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out two pieces of peppermint candy. She unwrapped them and rolled one to the girl and then placed the other in her mouth to show it wasn't poisoned. The girl quickly mimicked her, her hunger getting the better of her. 

'My name is Peggy Carter, do you have a name?'

'Natasha.' Her voice was weak, and hoarse. She was not used to speaking. Only screaming.

'Would you like to leave this place and come with me, Natasha?' Peggy stretched her hand out. The little girl stared at it apprehensively. Long minutes passed in silence in the bunker. The brunette heard her men in the distance. They weren't bothering to be quiet, or subtle. Peggy was worried that their noise would frighten the child into a panic. But the older female kept quiet, and still, and allowed the girl to come to her.

Slowly Natasha reached out and grasped the brunette's hand tightly. She crawled the rest of the way out from under the bed, and it was then that the older woman realized that the redhead was nearly naked. She let go of the girl's hand and took her uniform jacket off and placed it gently, mindful of causing pain, over the girl's shoulders. The little girl promptly put her arms through the sleeves, and Peggy was in awe once again at the child's pain tolerance. Anyone else would have been writhing in pain, if they were even conscious, or alive. But this little girl's only concession was a few whimpers. 

What did they do to this child, Peggy wondered. The super soldier serum gave the person accelerated healing, but they still felt pain the same as anyone else. For her to be like this meant she had gone through intense training (torture?) for her to be able withstand the pain she must be in so stoically.

The brunette lifted the girl, who weighed hardly anything, with one arm and stood up. The little redhead wrapped her arms around the woman's neck tightly, almost painfully. ( Natasha was stronger than she looked). And the two left the building.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2.

Throughout the long return trip, Natasha clung to Peggy's side, never allowing the woman to leave her sight even for a moment. The redhead was terrified of the troops. She was convinced that the large men holding guns, and dressed in army fatigues were the same as the Red Room soldiers, and wouldn't hesitate to shoot her between the eyes. 

Her fear was compounded by the fact that when they arrived at camp they were greeted by a crowd of curious, and sympathetic onlookers. The little redhead burrowed her face in the crook of Peggy's neck trying hard to fight the anxiety that was threatening to choke her, just as she had been trained to. But despite the child's best efforts, tiny tremors shook her body, her heart was racing, and her breathing was quick and shallow.

'No one is going to hurt you, sweetheart; they'll have to get through me first,' Peggy whispered fiercely in Russian. She rubbed circles on the child's back to calm her down, and fought the urge to yell at the crowd to get the hell out of the way.

Natasha believed every word she said as if it were straight from the gospel, (after all, she had witnessed the petite brunette order the men about easily), and relaxed into the agent's embrace. The little redhead closed her eyes, blocked out the outside world, and instead focused her sharpened hearing on the steady thump-thump-thump of Peggy's heartbeat.

The brunette looked down, and gave a small smile. The agent was not one to go gaga over every small child, or baby that came across her path like most adults. It wasn't that she hated them, it was just for some reason she was very indifferent towards them, and the feeling was mutual.

But the little redhead nestled against her oozing blind trust was different. The agent could feel something shifting in her mind and heart, a need to protect and nurture this small fragile little person.

The child's injuries were completely healed, and it was getting late, but they could start on a basic medical exam, and they could question her. The two females sat side-by-side on an examination table as a man dressed in a crisp white lab coat approached them.

He smiled at Natasha, and his voice was pleasant, his accent denoting that he was from the same country as the brunette. 

He spoke Russian as well, and asked Natasha if she knew who her parents were, what her last name was, when she was born, and how old she was. 

She looked back at him with blank eyes.

The girls all had first names, but only for identification purposes. They had to be called something. And a name was far less cumbersome, and far easier to remember than a string of numbers that were constantly growing with each failed test subject. (Natasha was 001-187.)

Parents were a foreign concept to her. She knew on some instinctual level she had them since she was alive, but that was as far as it went. The same went for her birthday, she knew she had one, but she never acknowledged it, never knew what it was or how many had passed.

They put Doe on the form, because they had to put something down, and gave her DOB as the day she had been found minus five years.

They gave the redhead a physical, fed her dinner (Her appetite surprised most of the adults, until they remembered Steve's metabolism.), and then brought her to a small bedroom with a one-way mirror. What once was a sterile white room had been quickly decorated to look like something a little girl might enjoy. 

The walls were painted a pale yellow, and still smelled of fresh paint. A wooden bookshelf held several books that Peggy recognized from her own childhood, and next to that was a small toy chest that could double as a bench with a doll and teddy bear perched on top. Even the cot, standard army issue, looked inviting with a patchwork quilt covering it. Next to that was a small dresser with a desktop lamp.

'I'm impressed,' Peggy said. 'How were you able to get it all done so quickly?'

'Everyone pitched in,' said Colonel Phillips from behind. 'The furniture and the quilt were all handmade, and a collection was taken for the books and clothes,' he drawled.

In the middle of the small room, Natasha ignored the English-speaking adults, and did a 360, her eyes were wide, and bright. In the academy, the girls owned nothing, not even their own bodies.

Gingerly she made her way around, as if she were afraid that all this would fade away, and she would awaken cold, and alone, back in the Red Room. It was this thought that put a lump in her throat, and sent her scurrying back to Peggy where she clutched the woman's leg tightly, and buried her face in the woman's upper thigh. She didn't care about the room, or any of the things, but the thought that the brunette, the first person to show kindness to her, was merely a figment of her imagination was terrifying. 

The colonel chuckled. 'Looks like she's taken a liking to you, maybe you should put in for her adoption,' he said, before taking his leave

Peggy rolled her eyes at that thought. Me, a mother? Preposterous, she thought. I can barely take care of a houseplant, never mind a child. 

And yet, she couldn't help but feel . . .something for the poor damaged child. Empathy? Sympathy? Some bit of maternal instinct that hadn't been buried under duty, and service? She didn't know what to call it, it was too new, and too small to have a proper name. 

'Come on, sweetheart. Let's get changed, and climb into bed,' the brunette said, whilst tugging the girl's hands away. 

Natasha balked, and clutched Peggy tighter. 

The brunette sighed. 'Do you want me to stay with you for a little while?'

The redhead nodded, and allowed the brunette to help her change. Then Peggy pulled the covers down, and helped the child into bed before tuckering her in. 

The brunette sat beside the child's bed, and watched as the girl's eyes got heavier, and heavier and then finally close. Only after her breathing evened out did the older female tiptoe out of the room and shut the light out. 

Back in her quarters Peggy quickly changed, and went to bed herself. She stared out the window at the stars and moon, and sighed deeply. A gentle breeze blew through her open window rippling the curtains gently. She stroked the locket around her neck, (One day it'll be a ring, I promise, Peg, Steve had said.) and hoped for a full night of peaceful slumber.

But she wasn't holding her breath.

Sleep was a rare commodity these days. And if it did come, it was only at the mercy of complete and utter exhaustion, and even then it was only for a few hours. 

More often than not, her eyes would snap open, a strangled yell would escape (It was the name of the man who stole her heart, and then drowned with it). Her body convulsed, struggled to shrug the last bits of her dream from her mind, from her body. 

She dreamt often of being in that plane as it sunk into icy, blue water. Sometimes she was alone sometimes she was with Steve. 

She would watch. 

She would struggle. 

She would fail to save him. 

She would fail to save herself.

She stared at the ceiling eyes wide, unblinking. If she blinked the tears would fall. She refused to cry anymore. 

Her breathing was shaky, shuddering, and shallow.

(Sometimes she wondered why she bothered breathing since it hurt so much.) 

Sleep was impossible after that.

If the weather was nice, she wondered aimlessly around the camp like a pale wraith. The guards, used to this, left her to her own devices. It was a common enough sight to see her ghosting around the compound, that they barely moved from their post, only offering a halfhearted salute which she barely acknowledged.

Tonight though, her subconscious led her back to the lab, and to Natasha's room. The brunette stood behind the one-way mirror and stared at the child. The light was low, but she could see the little redhead was curled into a tight little ball, taking up as little space as possible on the bed. And even under three blankets, she was shivering. 

Silently Agent Carter went into the little girl's room, and retook her seat by the bed. She once again took her uniform jacket off, and placed it over the shivering child. Natasha started at the unexpected touch, and opened her eyes. They were wide and slightly unfocused, the last visages of sleep still clung to her. 

'Please,' she said. Her voice was so small, so scared. There were tears in her eyes that she wiped away quickly as if they were incriminating evidence of some sort of defect. And in the Red Room's eyes they would have been. 

Tears were a weakness. 

Fear was a weakness. 

Pain was a weakness. 

Love was a weakness.

'I'll be quiet, please don't send me away.'

Peggy was taken back. She tried to reach over to touch the child's cheek in order to draw her out of whatever waking nightmare she was trapped in. The redhead flinched in fear.

'No one is going to send you away. You're safe here with me,' Peggy said. She reached again, this time she was successful. She stroked the child's face. 

Natasha blinked her eyes several times, her vision resting on the brunette's face. Even with so little light she was able to see better than a cat. 

'Peggy, where did you go? I was scared.' The child scrambled over to the older woman, and climbed onto her lap. Natasha was shaking as she buried her face in the crook of the brunette's neck. 

'I just went to my quarters, but I'm here now, and I'm not leaving,' the agent said. She grabbed her uniform coat from the bed and wrapped it around the child. For several minutes they sat quietly.   
'Natasha, what did you mean by being sent away?'

Natasha was silent for several minutes, making the brunette think she wasn't going to receive an answer. (Though in all honesty, the agent knew what the child meant.) 'If a girl was weak,' the redhead said in a near whisper. 'They called her defective, or a failure. They sometimes would come in the middle of the night for her.' 

The redhead could still hear the smack of leather boots against the concrete floor of the dorms. They all huddled in their beds trying to be as small and unobtrusive as possible, praying to a God who didn't seem to give a damn about them, that they were not the one the men were looking for. 

'They would take the girl away, and we would never see her again. Sometimes, I would hear gunshots in the distance. The next morning at inspection, I would always see vultures circling in the distance.'

Peggy's eyes widened in horror. She held the child tighter.

'Peggy? Are there – are there going to be vultures out in the morning?'

The brunette stiffened. Because what do you say to that? The truth? No, you won't see vultures because we're three days train drive from the academy, and even if we were close enough they'd be no vultures, just 63 little graves. That's she's the sole survivor because by some miracle the serum kicked in just in time.

(And she thanked God for that little miracle, even as she cursed him.)

'I'm afraid – I'm afraid we're too far away to see the vultures.' Because in the end all Peggy could do was tell the truth(sort of). 'Did you have friends there?'

The redhead was too young to hide her tells. She was betrayed by the minutest widening of her eyes, and a slight tightening of her jaw even as she vehemently shook her head in denial. They weren't allowed to have friends at the academy, they were raising their girls to be tigers: merciless, solitary predators of humans.

Friendships were discouraged; rivalries were encouraged, anger and hatred were encouraged. But in the darkness of the night, while the instructors slept, girls could be seen huddled together, desperately trying to hold on to what was left of their humanity.

Peggy pulled away slightly so that she could pull out her locket. She opened it, and showed the the little girl the picture. 

'Do you see him? That's my . . . my dear friend. He had to go away, and I miss him very, very, much,' the brunette said, her voice thick with emotion. 'I know they probably told you it was wrong to love other people, but I'm telling you its okay. It's okay to have friends, and it's okay to mourn for them when they leave you. I won't ever think you're a failure, or defective. I won't ever send you away, and no matter what you're safe here with me.'

Peggy didn't know where these words were coming from, only that she meant every word of them. She would protect the child, and guide the child so that if she really was like Steve, she will use her strengths as a shield. But most importantly, she would love the child.

Unaware of the brunette's thoughts, Natasha stared at the small portrait of the blond man, and then back at the agent. The little girl's lip quivered as the magnitude of everything hit her. The enormity of her loss fell upon her heavily, and so suddenly that it felt like all the air had been punched out of her.

She was all alone. 

'Anya . . . Anya . . .' And that was all she could get out before Natasha dissolved into tears. Peggy closed her eyes, buried her face in red curls, and held the child tightly even as she cried her own tears, (even though she promised herself she wouldn't) and railed at the unfairness of it all.

For the next ten minutes all that could be heard was a keening cry of a heartbroken child, and soft Russian words spoken with a British accent of an equally heartbroken woman.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3.

Peggy's eyes snapped open at precisely five thirty a.m., as was her norm, and within moments she was fully awake, and aware of her surroundings. At some point during the night, the brunette had taken off her uniform, leaving her in a white slip, and had climbed into bed with the little redhead. 

Sleeping next to Natasha was like a lot like sleeping next to Steve on those nights when he snuck into her room for some innocent cuddling. (After a hard mission, all he wanted to do was hold the brunette tightly: his anchor and refuge against the madness of war.) They both (Natasha and Steve) emitted body heat that made it feel like Peggy was sleeping next to a radiator. 

The redhead was still asleep, her breathing deep and untroubled, her lips slightly parted. Occasionally her eyes would twitch as if she were in a particularly animated dream, but her relaxed expression made it plain that it wasn't a nightmare. It was hard to believe that Natasha was anything more than a sweet little five-year-old sharing her mother's bed, or that she had just escaped some kind of hell, or that she was in anyway extraordinary. 

But Peggy knew differently.

The tests that they would be running later in the morning, and for the next few days would do nothing but prove what the brunette already knew. It was just a matter of finding out how well the serum had worked.

'Peggy?'

'What is it, sweetie?' Pulled from her musings, the agent turned her attention to the pair of bright green eyes staring intently at her. Idly, the brunette tucked an errant curl behind the child's ear, and stroked her pale cheek. 'Did you sleep well?'

Natasha nodded, and smiled sweetly. She had slept very well wrapped in the warmth, and safety of the older woman's embrace. Her little heart swelled with unfamiliar feelings for the brunette, who without a second thought, or ulterior motive took her in, despite knowing (she had to know) that the redhead was defective. 

The agent, unaware of the little girl's thoughts, got out of bed. Natasha scrambled out as well, and was quickly scooped up into Peggy's arms. They left the room, and made their way down long corridors. The brunette was glad that no one was around at such an early hour to see her in nothing but a white slip, face devoid of make-up, padding around in bare feet.

'Where are going?' Natasha asked shyly in heavily accented English. 

It took Peggy a moment for her to get over initial surprise at hearing English from the child. She had not started to teach the redhead her native tongue yet, she wanted to wait until Natasha was settled before thrusting something like a new language upon her.

'We're going to the ladies' room. I'm certain you need to use the facilities; I know I do,' Peggy replied in Russian, not sure how much English the girl knew. 'How much English do you know? And how did you learn it?'

Natasha shrugged, not knowing how to answer the first part. 'I learn from you, and soldiers. I still not good talking.'

Peggy chuckled, and kissed the girl's cheek. 'Don't worry, you'll get better with practice.'

The child nodded solemnly, slightly surprised at not being yelled at, before being put down. And while she entered one of the stalls to do her business, Peggy entered an adjoining one to do her's. 

Osmosis, the agent thought. And then she sighed, as if she needed more proof that the child was extraordinary. 

'The SSR is going to want to study her,' Peggy muttered to herself as she washed her hands, and face. They had let Steve go, and now they didn't even have a body to show for it, they won't make the same mistake twice. 

Natasha stepped out of her stall, her bare feet slapping against the floor as she made her way to Peggy. The brunette lifted the child so she could reach the sink, and washed her hands, and then put her back down. 

They returned to Natasha's bedroom, where Peggy put her uniform back on, and the child was cleaned, and dressed in a bright yellow poplin dress, and saddle shoes. 

The two females then went to the brunette's meager room where Agent Carter put on a clean, pressed uniform, and fixed her hair. She then holstered her primary gun to her thigh, loaded her secondary gun and slipped it into her shoulder holster, a small 3rd gun went to the small of her back, and at least four knives of various lengths were hidden on her person. She winked at the child who stared at her in wonder.

(The knives and guns didn't bother her; she knew instinctively that Peggy was going to use them to protect her.)

'Can't be too careful out there, can we?' Normally she wouldn't carry quite as much weaponry on her, relying on her primary and secondary guns, her hand-to-hand fighting skills, and the element of surprise. (Most men had a difficult time fighting a woman, either out chauvinism, or chivalry.) But her instincts weren't often wrong, and right then they were screaming to load for bear.

After arming herself, Peggy went to her small, barely there bureau. The little redhead knelt on a chair next to it, and resting her chin on her hands, watched in apt attention as the woman applied her make-up. 

The brunette looked down at Natasha with an expression full of nostalgia. Though there were times when it felt like it was ages, and ages since the agent was as young as Natasha. It wasn't really that long ago that she was in a similar position watching in open fascination as her mother applied her make-up for a night on the town with her father.

'You look pretty, Peggy,' the redhead said, once again speaking in her native tongue. There weren't many adult women at the Red Room Academy, and the few that were there were cruel, and harsh. They wore their power like an overcoat, and had no time, no desire to coddle the girls under their care. They didn't laugh, or smile, and their voices were hard edged, and cutting.

'Do I?' the agent asked with an indulgent smile. The agent wasn't often described as pretty, or beautiful, or any other feminine adjective. (Not that it mattered to her: she was a fighter, not a model.) She was too much of a tom boy in her youth, and nowadays, with Steve gone, only Stark would be brazen enough to call her pretty to her face.

Natasha nodded her head enthusiastically. Idly she picked up, and examined the black tubes that contained the brunette's make-up. She scrunched her face and sniffed at them before placing them down. The child was particularly interested in the lipstick, twisting the bottom so that the red would appear and disappear.

Peggy gently plucked it from the redhead's hand, and put the cover back on. 'This isn't a toy, sweetheart.'

'Can I have some?' The little redhead looked up at her with puppy-dog eyes, and pouty lips. 

The brunette resisted the urge to roll her eyes. 'When you're older, don't be so quick to grow up.'

The little girl made a disappointed noise. Peggy tickled Natasha under her chin until she started to giggle. 

'Come on, let's go,' the agent said. 

She gathered the child up in her arms, and left her quarters. The redhead looped her arms around the woman's neck. Her bright green eyes were alert as she took in her surroundings. The camp was just waking up, troops were starting their morning calisthenics, which meant the mess hall shouldn't be too crowded.

'Where are we going now?' 

'We're going to get breakfast first. And then we're going to the lab.'

At the mention of lab, Natasha tensed.

'I'm sorry, I know you don't like that. But it is necessary to run tests on you. You're a very special little girl. But, we just need to know how special.'

Resigned, Natasha frowned, and gave a small nod. 'Will you be there?'

'Of course I will. I'll be there the whole time, and if you need a break, or anything else, all you have to do is say so.'

The little redhead sighed in relief, no one would dare hurt her if Peggy was there.

'Agent Carter, you do realize the child has two perfectly functional legs.'

'Good Morning Colonel Philips, and yes, yes I do realize that.'

'Good. The way you're toting her around like a sack o' potatoes, I was beginning to wonder,' the colonel stepped closer to the two females, and surprised Peggy by chucking the child under the chin. More surprising was that instead of cowering, Natasha giggled, and ducked her head shyly. 'Though, the way my wife tells it, my eldest feet didn't touch the ground til she was three.'

Peggy smiled at the mental image of Colonel Philips as a doting father. 'We were just heading to the mess hall, would you care to join us, sir?'

'Sorry, no can do. But I'll meet you in the lab in a couple of hours, I'll be expecting a full, report there.'

'Yes sir. I'll see you then.'

His expression unreadable, the colonel gave one last lingering look before taking his leave. Puzzled, Peggy watched his retreating back, heard as he barked orders to anyone that was slacking off, before turning her attention to Natasha. 

'I wonder what that was about?' 

Natasha shrugged her shoulders, her expression mirroring the brunette's.

After a few moments, the agent and the redhead continued to the mess hall. Some of the people they passed, soldiers and agents alike would pause, smile and wave at the little girl. At first, Natasha flinched as if she were expecting some kind of rebuke. But after a while, and with Peggy's calming presence, the child began to return tentative, small waves back. But, still her eyes betrayed a nervousness that bit into the woman's, heart and made her wonder what kind of hell the Red Room had put those little girls through.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4.

Private Lorraine and Agent Carter watched in nauseated fascination as Natasha ate reconstituted powered eggs, and bacon that may or may not have come from an actual animal, never mind a pig, like it was a 5-star meal from the Ritz.

'What kind of a hellhole did you rescue her from where mess hall food is actually edible?'

Peggy reached down, and tucked a stray lock of hair behind the little girl's ear. Natasha looked up at her with large, luminous eyes, and once again the brunette was filled with an indelible desire to wrap the redhead in her arms, and protect her.

The agent knew her friend was trying to be light and humorous, but Gail hadn't been at the academy. She hadn't seen the bodies of 63 children shewn like so much trash, and she wasn't there on the train ride where every little sound made Natasha jump in panic. (Was it possible for a child to have shell-shock?)

'I saw her eating bugs on the way back to camp,' Peggy admitted softly. 'By the look of it, it wasn't her first time.'

Private Lorraine's eyes, and mouth momentarily widened in shock before she was able to regain her composure. 'Damn, it's a good thing you found her.'

Peggy nodded. God only knew what would have happened to the child had they not gotten the tip about the Academy. Would she gone out into the woods? Would she have surrendered her humanity, and become nothing more than a hairless two-legged animal? Or would the Russians have returned, realized the serum worked, and continued her training/programming?

So many questions that Peggy was more than happy to leave unanswered. 

There was a pause whilst the blonde took in her friend's countenance.

'So they weren't exaggerating,' the blonde confessed with a small shiver. 'I heard some of the boys talking last night. I thought – I hoped they were just talking through their beer. Never thought I'd live to see the day when grown men would be reduced to tears.'

'Yes, well this is one of those occasions when that sort of behavior is perfectly acceptable.'

'Except by you, of course,' the blonde private said. 

'Of course.' 

(They both knew the answer was complete, and utter bullshit. The haunted look in the brunette's eyes gave her away.)

Several minutes passed in silence while each woman ate their meal, gladly giving a portion over to the little girl who gobbled it as enthusiastically as she had her own. Not one single crumb was missed, and it was a wonder the child didn't literally lick her plate clean.

'Do you have any idea what's going to happen to her?'

Peggy shrugged her left shoulder, a note of resignation creeping into her. 'I know what I'd like to happen. But I think the SSR is going to ship her off to New Mexico as soon as the test results are made official.'

And the thought of Natasha all alone halfway across the world being poked, and prodded was enough to make Agent Carter's eyes sting, and her stomach churn. She had promised herself she would take care of the little girl, but if she was ordered to turn her over, it would be considered treason to disobey a direct order.

'Peggy? Peggy, you in there?' Gail called out whilst waving a hand in front of the brunette's face.

The agent shook her head to clear it. 'Sorry. I just. . . .'

'No need to explain,' the private said. She reached across the table took Peggy's hand, and gave it a quick squeeze. 'I was just thinking, it's a shame you couldn't . . . finagle a birth certificate for her. With you as the mother, of course.'

'Of course,' Peggy deadpanned. 'Finagle a birth certificate. And who would we put down as the father? God?'

'Don't be so melodramatic. We leave it blank to protect the father's identity, he is a national icon after all, but it will be a well known secret who it is,' Gail said in a tone low, and conspiratorial. 'It would explain her augmentations, and when she's old enough she can claim dual citizenship, which means the Russians can't touch her. Or better yet, we can fake a marriage certificate too, then everything would be legitimate.'

The brunette shook her head in wonder. 'Gail, Gail, Gail, you know I love you like the sister I never wanted. But I think the peroxide has seeped into your brain.'

'What? It's a brilliant plan.'

'Yes, if by brilliant plan, you mean something so riddled with holes that I could fly a plane through them,' Peggy said her voice thick with sarcasm. 'Because the press won't eat this up like a steak. Because once the world knows that Captain America has a daughter, I'm certain no one will be interested in her.'

Private Lorraine deflated. 'I'm sorry, I was just – '

It was Peggy's turn to reach across the table to squeeze her friend's hand. 'Don't be sorry. I know you were trying to be helpful, and I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I'm – I'm just worried,' the brunette confessed, her voice quiet. 'And I'm scared, I'm scared that I won't be able to protect her. That I won't be allowed to.'

'Peggy, you're not alone. You have a whole company out there who's not going to let anything happen to you, or Natasha.' 

And Peggy had to smile a little at that thought. 

In the meanwhile, the redhead having finished her food stared as the two woman spoke. She didn't understand everything that was being said, but she knew that was Peggy was upset, which made her upset, she automatically thought she had done something wrong. Natasha tugged at the brunette's sleeve. 'Peggy? Are you okay?' she asked in Russian.

'I'm fine, sweetheart,' the brunette replied. She gathered the little girl in her arms, and held her close so that the child's head rested on her chest. Natasha hugged the brunette, offering as best she could some small bit of comfort to the woman.

Peggy looked down at Natasha who in turn stared up at her. She could poke at least a half dozen more holes in Gail's plan, but if it meant keeping the Russians off their tails, even for a little while, if it meant that she would be able to stay with Natasha, then wasn't it worth it to take that chance?

'I'll pass your idea onto Colonel Philips. Though I doubt he'll go for it.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I normally don't do this, but I'm curious to know what people think of Private Lorraine's idea. I'm not looking for a five paragraph essay, just a general thumbs up, or thumbs down.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5.

 

'That girl's blood could be more valuable than gold,' Colonel Philips said grimly. 

He, and Agent Carter stood in a far corner where the brunette gave her report of what had happened at the Red Room Academy. 

'The Russians are a very patient, methodical people. They don't need the flash, and bang of Hydra or the Nazis,' Peggy said thoughtfully. 'When they make their move, it's going to be at a snail's pace. Years, decades, it won't matter to them. This next war is going to be more about guile, and subterfuge, and less about strength.'

The colonel quirked an eyebrow. 'What exactly are you implying, Agent Carter? We're barely finished with this last war, are you expecting another one?'

The brunette shook her head, and sighed. 'I don't know what I'm implying. Maybe, I'm just talking nonsense. But those girls' bodies,' she said with a small shudder. 'Were in a training room. There were ballet barres, a boxing ring, and targets with instant kill zones highlighted. Now, imagine Natasha as a grown woman: beautiful, graceful, heartless, and with the power of Captain America. On top of that she would be completely loyal to whatever Russia's endgame was.'

'And what exactly would their endgame be?'

'I imagine the usual Colonel, world domination.'

The older man snorted, and the two adults turned their attention to Natasha who was bravely sitting on an examination table. One of the scientists was drawing blood from her arm, and they couldn't help but note how perfectly normal it looked: dark red, oxygen rich.

'I take my earlier statement back; her blood is more valuable then vibranium. Hydra, the Hand, the Russians, hell even the Canadians are all going to wanna get a piece of her,' he continued. Not to mention their own people who would love nothing more than to recreate Captain America, or better yet a whole army of super soldiers, which had been their intent from the beginning. 

'Well, then it's a good thing no one else knows about her existence,' Peggy replied. 

'How long ya think that's gonna last?'

The Agent sagged against the wall a little bit. 'Not long enough,' she said quietly. Natasha deserved a home, and a normal childhood with loving parents, siblings, dogs, the whole nine yards. She did not deserve to be a pawn on some kind of international chess board. 

'Would the Russians have a case? She is technically a citizen of their country, and a minor,' Peggy asked after a momentary pause.

He shook his head. 'I don't know. But, I'll have legal look into it. There has to be come kind of a loop hole for foundlings. Ya know, finders keepers, losers weepers.'

'Somehow, I doubt that's a legal term.' Peggy deadpanned. She then took a deep breath, and proceeded to tell him Private Lorraine's plan.

The colonel snorted. 'That girl needs to stop dying her hair. The peroxide is starting to make her a little loopy.'

'But as insane as her plan may seem, she does have a point. The Russians don't know she's alive, but like you alluded to, it's just a matter of time before they do. And when they do, they'll come after her with everything they have.'

'But why not a married couple? I'm certain we could find one more than willing to take her in.'

'Her augmentations. For this to work, people would need to think Captain America was her father.'

'And your reputation? Because I'm assuming you're gonna to be the one to play mama bear to the girl.'

'I'm willing to take the hit if it means that I can raise her. I'll just be another war widow raising a child on her own.'

'I see,' Colonel Philips said. 'You know this whole thing could end up blowing up in our faces, right? Captain America's daughter? A lot of people are going to be wondering why no one said anything. And forget the Russians, the press would be on you like Dum Dum at an all-you-can-eat-buffet.'

'I know, sir. But, I would do anything to protect Natasha,' Peggy said her voice low, and thick with emotion. 'I already love her as if she were my own daughter. My reputation is a small price to pay to keep her. And I – I think that Steve would feel the same way if he were here.' 

The colonel shook his head in disbelief that he was even thinking of allowing this harebrained scheme to go through. 'I'll think about it. But I promise nothing,'

Peggy nodded in relief, it was more than she could have hoped for. Her attention then fell back onto Natasha. The child's eyes, wide, and fright-filled, darted from one scientist to the other, and then to the brunette as if she was making sure the woman was still there. She reminded the agent of a dog that was always expecting to be kicked, and had yet to be proven wrong.

Over the following week, they tested the redhead's endurance, her speed, her agility and strength. They had her breathe into long tubes to test her lungs. They had her pee in cups, and collected blood in long, thin, glass tubes. They had her read eye-charts, and listen to beeps to identify how sensitive her hearing was.

They weighed her, and measured her, and counted the bumps on her head. They performed every test they could think of, and then created a few more just to make sure they didn't miss anything.

And Peggy was there the whole time. (On the third day of testing, a small desk was brought in so the agent could still do her work whilst keeping the child company.) Intervening when she could see panic writ large on the child's face. Because while the scientists were nowhere near as bad as the ones in the Academy, they still made the child feel as if she were nothing more than a science project. 

And after the last day of testing had finally ended, Peggy hurriedly scooped Natasha into her arms, and left the lab for her quarters as quickly as dignity allowed. 

The redhead closed her eyes, but did not fall asleep. She snuggled closer to Peggy, took a deep breath, and smiled. The brunette smelt of leather, and gunpowder, tinged with sweat, and something slightly floral. Her heartbeat sounded strong, rhythmic, and Natasha wanted nothing more then for it go on, and on forever, and ever, so she would never be alone again.

Natasha had no recollection of who her mother was, what she looked like, or sounded like. (She had a dim memory of heat, and falling, but she doesn't know whether that was real, or her imagination.) She had no idea what a mother did, but there was a part of her, a primal part, that looked at the brunette, and thought, Mother.

The words she overheard Peggy speak to Private Lorraine, and the colonel still played in her mind. Her English wasn't perfect, yet, but she understood in her heart what the brunette was saying. 

Peggy loved her.

Peggy wanted to protect her.

And that was all that mattered at the moment. The rest would figure itself out in time, which Natasha now had, since she had no fear of being sent away to where the vultures were.

The agent looked down when she heard the little girl sigh contently against her chest. An indulgent smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. And she couldn't help but note the unexpected turn her life had once again taken.

Agent Carter had long ago turned her back on the traditional paths offered to women: of the happy housewife with a gaggle of little ones underfoot. (And God bless her parents for at least trying to be supportive, even if they were confused by her life choices.) After being recruited into the SSR, she hoped to have a good, and long career. She wanted to prove to the world, that a woman could through hard work, and intuitive make it in a man's world. But most importantly, she wanted to serve her country, to protect it, and the the world from bullies, and monsters.

But then she fell in love with a sickly boy from Brooklyn, who's heart was bigger than the world. And for an all too brief of a moment, she understood the desire to be with another person heart and soul.

And now she was starting to understand something else, motherhood. There was something powerful, and primal, and inexplicable about what she felt towards Natasha. For all the little girl's augmentations, she was still small, and helpless, and completely alone. 

Peggy kissed the top of Natasha's head. The brunette stared into the night sky past the tree lines to the sky above. It was a cool night, the stars were bright, and the air was crisp, and still. The last of the searing summer heat was slowly dissipating allowing the cool reprieve of fall to creep in. 

In another couple of month or so, the Americans will be celebrating their Thanksgiving, (roping everyone else into their plans) and then it wouldn't be long until winter hit them full force, as well as the rest of the holidays. Peggy made a mental note of what Natasha would need for the incoming cold weather: hat, coat, mittens, scarves, and thicker blankets. She would have to budget her meager paycheck to accommodate the extra expenses. 

And even whilst she made plans for the future, there was a part of her that wasn't as naive as to think that things would be smooth sailing.

Peggy could all but smell trouble looming over the horizon. After all, how long could they even hope to keep Natasha a secret from the rest of the world?


	6. Chapter 6

It was just past 9 pm when Agent Carter stole herself from her quarters into the crisp night, but it was not to her usual sleepless wanderings; tonight Peggy had a specific destination in mind.

The brunette had made sure that Natasha was tucked in tightly, and sleeping soundly before she took her leave. Private Lorraine, was keeping an eye on the child, as Agent Carter made her way across the camp, and into a small clearing. Her footsteps were muffled by tall, thick grass, and what was left of the waning moon did its valiant best to illuminate her path.

There was no body.

There was no casket.

There was no funeral.

What there was, was a marker with Steve's full name, the date of his birth, and the date of his disappearance (which was the day before his “daughter's” premature birth) engraved neatly by one of the remaining commandos. 

She needed a moment to breathe to think, to sort everything out before she could relax enough to sleep. What they were planning was audacious, and precarious, and success was too dependent on how good of an actor Natasha was.

Ignoring the bench beside it, the brunette crouched, traced the letters of his name with thin, pale fingers, and took several deep breathes. 'I wish you were here, Steve. Things would be a lot easier if you were,' she said with a sigh. 'At the very least, I wouldn't be going through this alone.'

She paused, and frowned. That wasn't entirely true, she thought with a shake of her head. As much as it felt like it at times, she was not alone. The remaining commandos had taken an interest in the little redhead, and by extension had taken an interest in her. Where once she had been an outsider due to her sex, and personality (having to constantly prove herself made her defensive), she now found herself being welcomed as one of the guys. 

(Or maybe they wanted to buy into the story that the little redhead was Steve's daughter. That a small part of him really was still with them.)

Even so, it did not keep her from wishing that he were there with her.

In the distance she could hear footfalls, and the crunch of leaves. Rising quickly, she got up, and pulled her gun out.

'Whoa, whoa, whoa, it's just me Agent Carter.' 

The man that stepped into the clearing was James Howlett, and he was one of the Howling Commandos. And there was something . . . very different about him. He was gruff and ill-mannered at times, but that wasn't what made him different, they say he can drink his weight in alcohol, and suffer no ill-effects. He never gets sick, and like Natasha any wounds he suffers seemed to heal unnaturally quick. There were even some who swore on their grandmother's grave that they saw claws protruding from the back of his hands.

The agent wasn't much for the gossip mills, as a matter of fact she hated them with a passion. But, as much as it galled her to admit it, there were sometimes grains of truth amongst the piles of manure.

She was hoping some of those grains concerning his senses, and physical attributes proved to be true. 

Peggy put her gun away, and schooled her expression. 'Good evening Sargent Howlett. What brings you out at this time of night?' 

'Thought I'd get some air, pay my respects to the new father,' he said with a nod to the marker. In his left hand was a bottle of rotgut that looked as if it were a third empty.

'Then I'll leave you to it,' Peggy responded primly.

'You don't have to go on my account.' 

Peggy paused a moment, she had wanted to be alone. But after several moments of silent contemplation, she gave a curt nod as if coming to some internal conclusion, and took a seat on the bench. She was joined shortly by James. 'You didn't know him very well did you, Sargent? You had only been with SSR a short time, if I recall correctly. And you didn't join the Commandos until shortly before his death.'

(And how far had she come that she could refer to Steve, and death in the same sentence without feeling as if she were choking on the words.)

'Yes ma'am. He was a brave man, a good man. Besides, I know what it's like to be a 90-pound weakling with more guts than brains.'

'So how did you get so big, and strong?' Peggy asked, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. 'Ovaltine? Deal with the devil?'

The Sargent barked a laugh. 'Something like that,' he answered cryptically. 

He pulled out a package of cigarettes, silently offering her one. Once they were both puffing away, Peggy couldn't help but chuckle.

'Steve hated smoking,' she said at his inquiring look. 'He would be very disappointed in me if he saw me with a cigarette.'

The Sargent barked another laugh, and it was good to able to sit, and remember the man, and not dwell on the loss. 

'Is that a libation for the deceased? Or are you going to share?' Peggy asked as she pointed her chin to the bottle.

Howlett's response was to take a long draw, and hand it to the brunette. She took a shorter draw, and closed her eyes as she relished the slow burn that traveled down her throat, and into stomach.

They passed the bottle back and forth for awhile. The only sounds to be heard were crickets nearby, and the distant sounds of the camp settling down for the night.

Twenty minutes, two cigarettes apiece, and a bottle of rotgut later, Sargent Howlett dug into his pocket and pulled out a small wad of bills. 

'Uh . . . look Peggy, I know a kid must be real expensive, and I know it ain't much, but I want you to have it.'

The brunette huffed, and gently pushed his hand away. 'Are you, and Howard in some kind of competition to see who can spoil Natasha the most?'

'Naw, that guy's a millionaire. I just wanted to help.' 

'If you really want to help,' Peggy said slowly. 'You can teach my daughter to fight.'

'Fight? I've seen you fight, you don't need my help for that.'

'My fighting style is what I learned from the streets as a wayward youth,' the brunette said with a small shrug. 'Which is not to say that it's not effective, it's just . . . I've read your file. You seem to be well traveled, and well versed in many fighting styles. I need you to teach what you know to Natasha. My daughter is literally one of a kind, and I won't always be able to protect her. I need to know she can protect herself.' 

'I see,' the sargent said. He took his pack of cigarettes out, and offered it first to Peggy, who refused, before lighting one for himself. 'And what about you?'

'My priority is Natasha.'

'You should spare a care for yourself,' Howlett said between puffs of smoke. 'I'll teach her everything I know about fighting, but I expect you to be there as well. If the rumors about the SSR are true, you're going to need to protect each other.'

Peggy frowned, but she couldn't disagree. Rumors were swirling that the agency was redundant now that HYDRA was for all intents and purposes defeated. It was just a matter of time before funding was completely stopped, and they were all released. What would happen to her and Natasha if that were to happen was anybody's guess.

'All right,' she said with a nod. 'Teach us everything you know.'

The sargent stomped his cigarette out, and stood up. 'We'll start Monday night. We'll meet in the gym at 7 pm, barring any last minutes missions.'

When James left for his barracks, Peggy stayed behind. She knelt beside the marker and traced the letters one last time. She wasn't going to let her grief pull her down anymore. She had a job to perform. But most importantly, she had a child to raise, and protect, and she was going to protect Natasha with every once of her strength.

'I promise, we'll get that dance, in this life or the next. But in the meanwhile, I'm going to teach her everything that you taught me about courage, and honor, I'm going to raise Natasha as if she really were our child.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figure if the Avengers 2 can have the Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver in it without there being mutants or Magneto, then I can have James Howlett aka Wolverine in mine.


	7. Chapter 7

Peggy smiled down at her daughter. 

The forged paperwork, thanks to Howard Stark, was complete. Natasha's new biography had been created. She was now, Natasha Elizabeth Carter, and no one (God willing) would be able to legally take her away from Peggy. 

It had taken the redhead all of 10 minutes for her to to get use to calling Peggy mommy. It was as if she had just been waiting for permission from the brunette. And oddly enough, or maybe not, Peggy found making the mental shift of thinking of the child as her daughter was not difficult at all.

The little redhead was skipping, and chatting away happily in English about her day, about her lessons, and pretty much anything else that popped into her head. It was difficult to believe that one month ago the redhead had been abandoned, and left for dead. Or that she had been terrified of everyone that wasn't Peggy. Natasha still clung to the agent, preferred the woman's company, and affection above all others. But, the child could go to her makeshift classes, whilst the brunette went to work in a different building without there being a panic attack on Natasha's part.

(They ate all their meals together though. And Peggy had even managed to acquire a small hot plate where she cooked their breakfast.)

'Sweetheart, what's your name?' 

It was a little game they played when they were alone. She needed to get Natasha used to her new biography, so she could rattle off the information as if it were all true.

(If only getting rid of her accent was that easy.)

So Peggy asked her daughter for her full name, her DOB, who her mother was, and who her father was.

'He died in the war, before I was born,' she replied sad-eyed. 

It had been decided, in the interest of safety, to not advertise to the world that Steve was Natasha's father. So, instead of having her last name be Rogers, it was Carter. And her father, for all intents and purposes, was just some poor unlucky soldier who died defending their country. 

'Very good, Nattie,' Peggy praised. She opened the door to the mess hall, and they both stepped in. It was still a little early for dinner, so the the hall was barely a third full. The people there either grabbing a late lunch before going off duty, or an early dinner before going on duty.

Natasha was first to notice Howard Stark, and Private Lorraine sitting near the back, and she nearly dragged her mother to them. 

'Easy, sweetheart! You nearly pulled your mum's arm out of its socket.'

'I'm sorry Mommy,' the redhead replied, her face filled with contrition. 'Are you okay? Did I really hurt you?'

Peggy bent down, and kissed the little girl's cheek, so she knew the brunette wasn't really angry with her. 'I'm fine, Natasha. Just be careful, okay? Remember, you're a very strong little girl.' 

Duly chastised, the child nodded, and hurried to where her godparents were. The brunette stared at the three for a few moments, rotated her shoulder to make sure it really was okay, and then went to join them.

She was not exaggerating. As the little redhead was enjoying regular meals, sleeping patterns, and overall safety, her augmentations were becoming more pronounced. She was nowhere near Steve's level (Thank God!), but the little girl had to be careful that she didn't accidentally hurt someone in her youthful exuberance. Her senses were also experiencing a growth spurt. There were times when the base-camp was so loud that it was physically painful to Natasha, or someone wore a little too much cologne or perfume causing her to retch. 

Hence, the early dinnertime.

'Uncle Howard! Uncle Howard! You're back, I missed you,' the child exclaimed as she climbed onto his lap, and hugged him. 'Did you get me a present!'

'Natasha! Don't be greedy,' Peggy admonished.

Howard laughed, and gave the little girl a peck on the cheek before seating her next to him.

'Of course I did,' he responded, ignoring the brunette. He pulled out crayons, and a sketchpad, and placed them in front of the child. 

The little redhead's mouth formed an O as she touched her presents reverently. It was as if there was a small part of her that still found it difficult to believe her luck, even as the the child reveled in the attention.

'Thank-you Uncle Howard,' Natasha said. And the sun had a rival in the way her smile lit up her face. 'Look mommy.'

Peggy couldn't help but smile at her daughter's enthusiasm for something as simple as paper and crayons. 'When we get home we'll give them a try, okay? Til then, what do we do with our toys?'

Natasha promptly put them to the on the seat next to her, and received a nod of approval from Peggy. Howard on the other hand was not so lucky. He received a withering look from the agent.

'You are spoiling my child.'

'I'm her godfather. I'm required by law to spoil her. It's in the constitution, or maybe the bible.'

The brunette quirked an eyebrow. 'I'm familiar with both, and I can tell you nowhere in either is anything about godparents.' and here she paused to include Gail, who merely smiled at her innocently. 'spoiling their godchild.'

Howard smiled up at her, his face the picture of benevolence. He, Gail, and Steve were the only people on base who could withstand Peggy's withering looks, and barbed tongue and remain nonplussed. 

'You do know, no matter what you say, or how much you complain, I'm going to spoil her,' he said. He took out a gold case, and opened it to reveal expensive cigarettes. He offered one to each of the women: Peggy declined, Gail accepted. Natasha crinkled her nose at the scent, and asked for one.

She was flatly refused.

'If it makes you feel better,' the blonde said between puffs of smoke. 'You can always think of this as an investment in our little . . . play.' Which for some reason was how Private Lorraine referred to their subterfuge.

'Exactly,' Howard said. (And weren't the two of them just the coziest things, Peggy thought.) 'Steve was a very good artist, it only makes sense that his child would also share his interest in drawing.'

'And she'll learn fine motor skills,' Gail said.

Peggy shook her head in exasperation. She had a feeling, she was going to hear a lot of these silly justifications for them buying her daughter presents. Though they did (not that she'd ever admit it out loud) have a point.

'I'm going to get us dinner. Try not to teach my daughter too many of your horrible vices in the meanwhile.'

'I make no promises, Peggy,' Howard called at her retreating back. 

(Decades latter she'll look back at these moments, and wonder how the same man who would have moved heaven and earth for her daughter could be so cold to his own son.)

The brunette returned to their table several minutes later with two dinners. She cut up the Salisbury steak into bite-size pieces, and placed in front of Natasha before tucking into her own meal. It was then that she noticed that Howard was looking at her, and silently chuckling. 

'Something amuses you, Stark?' 

'A lot of things amuse me, Carter. But I just never thought I'd see the day the great, and illustrious Agent Peggy Carter would be cutting mystery meat for a child. Never mind her child.'

The brunette agent smirked. 'We live in a world of marvels, don't we? And I'm just as surprised at you at the turn of events.'

'Speaking of which,' Howard said. He reached into his jacket and pulled out two objects. One he unfolded to reveal a check with Peggy's name on it. The other was a small savings book with Natasha's name in it. 'Consider them very, very late shower gifts.'

Gail craned her neck to look at the check, and then snuck a peek inside the savings book. She knew what he was going to be doing, but she had no idea at how generous his gifts were going to be. 

The blonde whistled. 'I don't think I've ever seen that many zeros in one place in my life.'

'Howard,' Peggy admonished. She gathered the two items and pushed them toward the millionaire. 'This is way too generous, even for you.'

'It's my money, I'll do what I want with it. And if I want to help my poor old widowed friend, then that's my decision.'

Private Lorraine stifled a laugh, and Peggy leveled a look at both of them.

'It's still too much.'

The brunet male sighed, and grasped the agent's hand. He called her stubborn, and too proud for her own good as he pried her fist open, and placed his gifts into her palm.

'Winter is coming, Peggy. She's going to need more than a few donated poplin dresses to get her through it. And she may not be growing at the same rate as other children her age, but she will need new clothes at some point. And I'm sure you'll want to buy her books, and toys, and . . .'

'All right, all right. I see your point,' the agent said with a frown. 'My agent's salary was not meant to support two people.'

'It wasn't meant to support one person,' Gail groused.

'If it makes you feel better, think of it as a . . . signing bonus, like in the major leagues.'

'Signing bonus? For what?'

Gail and Howard exchanged cryptic smiles, before turning to the brunette.

'Let's just say that I'm working on something,' Howard finally responded. 'Something big. Something I'm sure you'll want to be a part of.'


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know updates are erratic, but I work 2 jobs, so I appreciate everyone's patience.
> 
> This chapter ended up being nothing like how I originally planned. I wanted to to introduce an antagonist, and instead I ended up with . . . this . . . thing. Enjoy? 
> 
> I didn't even think of looking to see whether or no there was any biographical information on Private Lorraine, so i may be completely, and utterly wrong about her birthday.

Gail called it Indian Summer, which seemed an odd name to Peggy. But in the end she couldn't care less what it was called. All she knew was that it was an uncharacteristically warm for fall and she wasn't about to allow such a beautiful Sunday go to waste being cooped up in camp.

The brunette had procured a small basket, and through some haggling managed to get the cook to make sandwiches for them. (Actually, all she said was that Natasha would love to have a picnic, and the cook staff practically tripped over themselves to make whatever Peggy needed.)

By mid-morning, while most of the others were enjoying a quiet Sunday to themselves, Gail, Natasha, and Peggy made their way down the wooded path to the small lake. The blonde carried the basket, blankets and towels, whilst the redhead was perched atop of her mother's shoulders. 

'Why I am I always the mule?' Gail groused. 'It's my birthday, for Pete's sake. I should at least get the day off this once.'

'Stop your bellyaching, we're almost there,' Peggy said with a backward glance. 'Besides, I'm carrying precious cargo, right Nattie?'

The little girl nodded her head absentmindedly. She was used to her mother, and her friend's teasing of each other, and knew it was a sign of their affection for each other. But, it wasn't often that she got to go off camp, and so the little girl's head was on a perpetual swivel as she took in endless array of sight, sounds, and smells.

'Please, you could drop a bomb on that kid's head, and she'd just shake it off, and ask for some candy. Which means her head is only slightly harder than yours.'

Out the sight of Natasha, Peggy flashed her friend the middle finger. 'I think someone is just jealous that I have a sweet little girl, while they're turning into on old maid right before her very eyes.'

'Yeah, well I'd rather be an old maid than have a stick up my ass,' Gail said with a smile, and a nudge. 

'You have a stick up your ass, mommy? Can I see it? Does it hurt? Should I pull it out?'

Gail nearly stumbled, and fell she was laughing so hard. The redhead was confused. 'I don't literally have a stick up my . . . butt. It's a figure of speech, okay?' 

'Okay.' 

Peggy nudged her friend to get her to stop laughing, but it was to no avail. The rest of the walk was punctuated with the barely suppressed chuckles of the blonde. 

When they got to the lake, Natasha scrambled down from Peggy's shoulders to the ground. Shoes and socks were quickly abandoned, and thrown to the side, and before Peggy could say even one word the redhead was knee-deep in water.

The blonde spread a towel on a fallen log so she and Peggy could sit, and chat whilst they watched the child play. The basket, and everything else went next to them. 'Don't stay in the water too long, Nattie, or you'll grow fins.'

Peggy tsked. 'Don't say things like that; she'll take it as a challenge.'

'Mommy, can I grow fins?' And there was a definite glint of excitement in the redhead's eyes at the prospect.

'No,' Peggy said. She threw a pointed look at her friend. 'It's just your aunt being silly. Again.'

'Silly? I'll have you know I am the epitome of class, and decorum.' And she punctuated this statement by blowing a raspberry at the brunette.

'If you're the epitome of class and decorum, then I'm next in line for the throne.' Peggy then turned her attention to redhead who was splashing around in the water. 'How's the water sweetheart?'

'It's nice, and cool, mommy. You should come in.'

'All right, just give me a moment.' Peggy sat on the log, and took her shoes and socks off, then rolled her pants up past her knees. 'Care to join us, Gail?'

'Sure why not.' The blonde took a seat, and mimicked her friends actions. 'So long as you two don't splash me.'

Peggy pretended shock. 'I am deeply offended that you would think I would do such a thing to my dear, dear friend, and on her birthday no less.'

'Did a bull just shit in the woods? Cuz I call b.s. On that one.'

'Fine, we promise not to splash you, right Nattie?' 

'Really? Because back at home you said we would.' 

'Oh Nattie, you're not suppose to say that. It was a secret.' Peggy said with a groan. 

'Oh-ho-ho. I see how it is. You too were conspiring against me. I guess I'll have to perform a preemptive strike.' Gail may have only been a secretary, but she was quick, and she managed to get into the water quickly. 'Come on you stuck up Brit, time to get splashed.'

'Not if I get you first, you cocky American.'

The brunette, sprinted into the lake, and just out of reach of Gail's first attempt to douse her. The agent managed to scoop up water, and hit the blonde, but her victory was short lived. Natasha caught her square in the chest.

'You little traitor! First you rat me out, and then you splash me?' 

Natasha's response was to plash her in the face. After that it was a free-for-all. Sometimes it was two against one, sometimes it was every woman for themselves. But after 30 minutes all three were thoroughly soaked, and breathless.

'It's a good thing we brought towels, though in hind sight I should have taken it as a cue that you were up to something,' Gail said as she dried herself off as best she could. Peggy was sitting next to her with Natasha standing in front of her mother. 'Though, even if I did, I never would have expected to have gotten this wet.'

'Me neither,' said Peggy. 

'Me neither, neither,' Natasha chimed in, not wanting to be excluded from the conversation. Her voice was slightly muffled by the towel being used to dry her face and hair, but the women heard, and shared a laugh.

'Before I forget,' Peggy said with a nudge. 'Happy 30th birthday, old woman.'

'Old woman? You're not that much younger than me. You'll be facing the big 3-0 yourself next year.'

'Yes, but I take great comfort in the fact that you will always be older than me.'

'Is 30 really old?'

'No, your mother just likes to tease me. You at least got me a present, right?.'

'God, you sound like Natasha when you say that.'

'Hey, it's my birthday. I'm allowed to be a little bit greedy if I want to.'

Peggy chuckled, and continued to dry her daughter, and then herself.

'So,' Gail said after several minutes of silence. 'Have you decided what you're going to do with that check Howard gave you?'

'I was thinking of buying a house, that should take care of a good chunk of it.'

'Oh,' said Gail. And there was just the barest hint of sadness in her tone. Even the mere thought that her best friend would be moving halfway across the world was enough to put an icy pick into her heart. They may tease and snark at each other, but Peggy was the sister she had always wanted. 'You're going back to England?'

'Well, I do have to visit my family at some point, I haven't seen them since the war ended. And I didn't have Nattie then, so they are definitely going to be wondering what the hell's going on,' the brunette said. She tugged her daughter close, and kissed her cheek. 'As for where I want to move to, I was thinking, maybe, Brooklyn.'

'Isn't that where Steve is from?'

'Yes, maybe that's why I feel drawn to there,' Peggy said. There was a distant look to her eyes, as if she could find the answer in the trees. 'Even though I have no idea what I'm going to do once I get there. I was born to be an agent, and I keep hearing rumors that the SSR will be shutting down. If that happens I'm not sure what else I'd be qualified for. I may very well end up going back home instead. I'm certain my parents would be relieved.'

'If they're closing down, they have a funny way of showing it,' Gail said. 'They just hired two new guards.'

At the mention of the new guards, Natasha shivered, and nestled closer to her mother. Peggy thinking the child was cold wrapped the towel tighter, and pulled her closer. 

'The wonders of bureaucracy, I suppose,' Peggy said with a half shrug. 'Though I imagine it has to do Natasha.'

Gail looped an arm her friend's shoulders, and gave a wink to Natasha. 'Have a little faith, Peggy. Things will work out just fine, you'll see.'

The brunette looked at the blonde with a great deal of skepticism, but she hoped her friend was right. She was not made for a quiet life in the suburbs.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9.

Dusk arrived, bathing the world around them in a gray blanket. The air became chill, and it was quickly decided to take their small party indoors. The silence of their return trip was broken only by the crunching of shoes against fallen leaves, and Peggy's quiet humming. The basket was empty, and the women were dry, and satiated. Once again Gail was carrying their things while the brunette carried a drowsy little redhead. 

'I don't think she's going to make it back to your room,' the blonde said quietly. 

'Yes I will,' Natasha said even as her eyes drooped. 'I want to give my present to you.'

'You can give it to me tomorrow.'

'No, today's your birthday. I have have to give it to you today.'

'All right, all right,' Gail said with a shake of her head. 'Stubborn girl,' she muttered. 'Just like her mother.' 

Peggy smirked at that, and peered down at her daughter. 'Why don't you close your eyes for a bit. When we get home, I'll wake you up.'

'Promise?'

'Promise.'

Natasha allowed her eyes to drift close. The gentle thump of her mother's heart, her warm scent, and lilting voice, even the steady rhythm of her footfalls all provided a bubble of safety that encapsulated the little redhead. 

Nearly 20 minutes passed in this fashion, with Natasha rocking on the cusp of sleep and wakefulness. They were out of the relative quietness of the woods, and back in the camp where other smells and sounds threatened to pervade her little bubble. These were just the normal camp going-ons that Natasha was learning to block out lest she be overwhelmed. But there were two scents that she couldn't ignore. They belonged to the new guards, and they slipped into her bubble, and threatened her feelings of safety.

Natasha shivered, and subconsciously pulled herself closer to her mother.

'Easy, Nattie, it's just a bad dream,' the brunette said softly. She used her free hand to rub circles on her daughter's back.

Gail quirked an eyebrow in puzzlement. 'Bad dreams? I thought she was over them.'

'So did I. But they've been coming back these past few nights, and I think they have to do with the new guards.'

The blonde hummed. 'That does make sense. They are strangers to her. And you remember what she was like when she first got here. She jumped at every shadow that wasn't yours.' 

The agent nodded her head in acquiescence. She remembered the first two weeks all too well. The child barely left her side, and at night she refused to sleep alone, demanding to sleep curled up next to Peggy. And even then Natasha would, on occasion, wake up to nightmares. 

'I'm certain once she gets used to them, she'll be just fine.'

'I hope you're right, Gail. But I can't help but be a little paranoid. Things have been going smoothly so far. Maybe a little too smoothly. I keep expecting the boogeyman to come jumping out at any moment.'

'My mother used to say: If you're not a little paranoid, then you're not a good mother.'

Peggy gave a derisive laugh. 'Then I should be in contention for mother of the year at this rate.' 

Agent Carter paused to open the front door to the women's dorms before they ascended to the third floor where the brunette, and redhead resided. Most of the other rooms were empty, and had been since the end of the war. The majority of women were just as eager as the men to go home to their families, and barely gave the base a backward glance as they took their leave. But the women who decided to stay were perhaps trying to put off the inevitable return return home where prospects were once again narrowed to wife and motherhood.

Peggy entered the room first, and put her daughter on her bed leaving Gail to close the door behind them. At the sudden jostling, Natasha's eyes popped open.

'Are we home?' the little girl asked groggily.

'We are,' Peggy said. 'Now come on, get your present for Aunt Gail, it's getting late and you need your sleep.'

Natasha smiled brightly, and jumped off the bed. She quickly made her way to the window seats where two not so neatly wrapped gifts resided. They were both rectangular in shape, but differed greatly in size, and weight making them a bit cumbersome for someone as small as the little girl to carry. 

'I take it Nattie wrapped them?' Gail asked quietly whilst she took a seat next to her friend on the brunette's bed.

'She insisted,' the agent said equally quiet. 'She must have went through a whole roll of paper, and nearly half a roll of tape to get it done.'

Gail chuckled before turning her attention to her niece, and relieving her from her burden. 'Wow! These are both for me? Which one should I open first?'

'The top one, that one's from me,' Natasha said as she bounced on the balls of her feet in nervous anticipation. 

Gail conceded to her request, and proceeded to peel through at least half a dozen layers of wrapping paper to the gift hidden with in. It was a framed drawing done in crayon.

'See that's you Aunt Gail,' Natasha pointed out the blonde. 'And that's mommy,' she said pointing to the brunette. The two figures were wearing their uniforms, and smiling brightly under a smiling sun. 

'I love it,' the blonde said. 'It's beautiful. I'm going to put it on my nightstand when I get to my room.'

Natasha smiled brightly before she was enveloped into a hug by her aunt. 'Thank you sweetie.'

'Your welcome, now open your other gift.'

'Yes ma'am,' Gail said with a mock salute. She then turned to her friend. 'Your daughter is almost as bossy as you.'

'You know I can return that gift very easily,' Peggy said with an arched eyebrow.

'No you can't mommy,' Natasha said with all the earnestness she could muster. 'It's against the constitution.'

'Yeah, it's against the constitution.'

'The constitution, you say? Is that before or after the line about spoiling your godchild? Is it in the bible as well?'

'Sure, why not?'

'Oh shut up, and open your gift.'

The blonde snickered, and repeated her actions from earlier, peeling away another half dozen layers of wrapping paper to a box with the familiar Macy's logo on it. She opened and pulled out her gift to better inspect it.

'Oh wow, Peg, it's beautiful. Thank you.' The gift was a cocktail dress in deep purple with a matching black wrap. The material was silky smooth, and expensive looking.

'Your welcome, and I don't want to hear one word about the cost,' Peggy said. 'Remember I came into a little money, one little dress for my best friend is hardly going to send me into destitution. Just promise me you'll get that fella of yours to take you dancing.'

'I will, I promise. Hey, Nattie? What do you think of my dress?'

'It's beautiful. Is purple your favorite color?'

'It is. It's was my nanna's favorite color too.'

'All right Nattie,' Peggy said cutting in. She knew once her daughter got started on 20 questions they'd be there all night. 'You gave your present to Aunt Gail, now it's off to bed with you.'

'Aw, do I gotta?'

'Yes you gotta,' her mother responded. The brunette got off the bed, and went to their dresser to gather their nightclothes. She then pulled out a letter and handed it to Gail.

'It's from my parents. I thought you might get a kick out of it.'

Whilst the Carter women got ready for bed, Gail put her gifts aside before making herself comfortable, and reading the letter. It was written in a concise script that made her own handwriting look like chicken scratch, and it conveyed in a few short paragraphs the full spectrum of parental disappointment.

Almost 30 minutes later, Peggy rejoined her friend on her bed.

'So, what do you think?'

'I think you're in a shit load of trouble, Margaret Sharon Carter.' She handed the letter back to the brunette who placed it on her nightstand. 'You really need to go home and explain what really went on before they disown you.'

'I know,' Peggy said with a sigh. 'Howard said he's going to England, and it would be okay if we hitched a ride with him. It means we'll miss Thanksgiving with everyone here. It would have been Nattie's first.'

'Don't worry about that. We can celebrate when you get back, the most important thing is that you straighten out your family situation. Besides 10 minutes with her, and she'll have them wrapped around her little finger just like the rest of us poor slobs.'


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes: For some reason this chapter was very difficult to write, I must have written and rewritten it at least a half-dozen times. 
> 
> I also did do some modicum of research on rationing (which did not end until 1954 over England!) and Manchester, which I'm very glad I did as I did not know how badly it had been bombed. 
> 
> So while I am no expert on the subject, and I'm certain I made some mistakes, I did try to at least to ground Peggy and Natasha's visit with some historical facts.

Manchester was one of many English cities that suffered greatly during the war. Having a strategic value meant that that the Germans were determined to decimate it, and they very nearly did. And even though the war was over, there were still plenty of reconstruction that still needed to be done. There were still buildings waiting to be either demolished or saved. 

'Do you see that building over there?' Peggy asked pointing to a hull of building with her chin. 'I was one of first women to volunteer to work in the factories. I thought even if I couldn't be on the front line with the men, I could at least make sure they had the weapons to protect themselves with. It was only after I was nearly killed during the blitz that I realized I needed to do more.' 

In the front seat, James and Howard shared a look. It was hard to imagine the brunette demurely working in a factory. To them she would also be brandishing a weapon, and leading men into battle. 

'Is that when you met Dr. Erskine?' Howard asked from the passenger seat.

A fond look passed over Peggy's face as she remembered her first meting with the doctor. 'It was about a year and half after the blitz, actuality. By that time I had had many, many doors shut in my face because I was a woman. But Dr. Erskine sought me out, he said he had heard of a very persistent young lady who was refusing to take no for an answer.'

'Persistent.' Sargent Howlett said with a snort. 'More like stubborn like a mule.'

'I was thinking bullheaded myself,' the millionaire rejoined. 

'Hardheaded.'

'Headstrong.'

'Oh shut up the both of you! I am not that bad, am I Nattie?'

'Well, sometimes . . .'

'Oh, Nattie. You too,' Peggy tsked at her daughter even as the men up front laughed. The brunette cast one last withering look at them before she too dissolved into laughter. 

So what if she were stubborn. She would never have gotten where she were today if she had allowed herself to be dissuaded from her goals. She would never have met Steve, or the two men in the front seat who were every bit her brothers as the one her mother gave birth to. And she most certainly would never had met Natasha.

'Admit it, gentlemen, my stubbornness keeps your lives interesting. And let's be honest, none of us were made for the quiet life.'

James gave a curt nod. He couldn't imagine himself, or Howard, or Peggy, or sadly even Natasha sitting in the suburbs in a house surrounded by a white picket fence. HYRDA, the Red Room, and the Tesseract were merely the tip of the iceberg when it came to what weird shit was out there. Someone, or rather someones needed to be out there acting in secret as a shield between the people and whatever strangeness was out there.

The rest of the drive was quiet, and the further they got from downtown Manchester, the less evident the destruction was. Council houses had been quickly erected to house the millions of Brits, including Peggy's mother and father, who were made homeless during the war.

The car stopped in front of a semi-detached home, painted a pale yellow to match the white picket fence surrounding the building, and the small yard. Peggy was the first to get out followed quickly by Natasha, and the two men. The brunette paused at the gateway, and took a deep breath. The last time she had visited was just after the war had ended, and her parents were still in a shelter.

This new residence definitely looked as if it were a step up from her childhood home. And her mother had been quite excited to inform her daughter that they had their own indoor plumbing, and space for a small garden. 

'Step lively you two,' Peggy ordered Howard and James. 'That luggage isn't going to carry itself.'

'Jesus,' the millionaire muttered to himself as he hefted a small trunk. 'You two are only going to be gone for two weeks, not two years. What the hell do you have in here?'

'I have my doll, and my teddy bear, and my crayons, and my paper, and the presents I made for grandma and grandpa,' Natasha piped in.

'Did you remember to pack your clothes, kid?' Sargent Howlett asked bemused.

Natasha's eyes widen in horror, and she nearly gave herself whiplash turning to stare at her mother in panic.

'Don't worry, I packed you plenty of clothes, Nattie,' Peggy said with a wink. 'As for you two get the lead out, there's still rationing going on in England. I promised my mother I'd bring her some things.'

'But did you have to bring the whole damn store with with you? And why do we have to play mule for you?' Howard asked, his tone was somewhere between exasperation, and amusement. 

'Well you are stubborn like one,' the agent said. She then picked up her suitcase, and made her way down the small pathway to her parents new home. 'Now, come along gentlemen.'

'Yeah,' Natasha mimicked. 'Come along gentlemen.'

'Dames,' Howard muttered to James, hefting his load. 'They start so young.'

'You know, if you keep that kind of attitude up, you'll never find yourself a wife.'

'From your mouth to God's ear. I'll take my work over a dame any day of the week, and twice on Sunday.'

'I'm certain the feelings mutual. And what about you Sargent? Don't tell me you feel the same way?' Peggy asked. She threw a look over her shoulder at the Canadian. 

'All right, I won't,' James said, and his tone suggested a finality to the subject. 

Children and a wife were luxuries he wasn't going to get in this life. Even if he could find a woman who would willingly put up with him, there was still the matter of the blood on his hands. There was also the fact that he was older than all three of his companions combined, though his physical age suggested a hard living 30-year old. 

Only Natasha shared his condition. Her healing factor would curse her to age slowly, and live a very long life. She would see the death of all her friends and family for generations to come, if she didn't at some point close herself down. It was to her that James had silently vowed to dedicate what was left of his affections to. He may never get the white picket fence, but he would do what he could to ensure the little redhead did not follow the same path as him.

This would be how he would honor the trust and camaraderie that both Steve and Peggy gave him.

The quartet barely made it to the stairs before the door swung open to reveal a slender woman in her mid-60's. She was shorter than Peggy by nearly half a foot, with dark brown hair streaked with gray. She was wearing a simple floral house-dress with matching slippers. The brunette barely had time to brace herself before being enveloped in a bone-crushing hug which cased her suitcase to drop to the ground with a thump. 

'Mom, I'm okay,' Peggy said after a few moments, her arms encircling her mother's thin frame. 

'I know, I know. But I'm still your mother, and I still worry, what with you traipsing all over the place going after Nazis and HYDRA, and whatever else. It's a wonder all my hair hasn't turned gray,' her mother said with a sigh. 'You couldn't be happy living a simple life, could you?'

Peggy gave a half smile, and a small shrug. 'Sorry?'

Helen pulled away slightly so she could look her daughter in the eyes. 'Don't ever be sorry. We raised you to think for yourself. Even if you do drive your poor parents batty with worry.'

'Yes, mom,' the brunette said with a chuckle. The agent may have had many, many doors shut in her face, but her parents have all ways supported unequivocally.

'Now, where is my little mystery granddaughter?' Helen asked as she pulled away fully.

'She's a little shy,' Peggy said while she tried to dislodge her daughter from the back of her legs. 'Come on sweetie, don't you you want to meet your grandmother?'

Natasha poked her head from around her mother's legs, and looked nervously up at the older woman with wide-eyes. 

'Hi sweetie,' Helen said. She knelt down in front of the little girl so that they were eye to eye. 'Do you think you could give your grannie a hug?'

The little redhead looked at the kindly older woman, and then to her mother as if asking for permission. Peggy gave her an encouraging smile, and pointed her chin to Helen in a go ahead gesture.

The older woman was almost as good at hugging as her mother, (no one could beat Peggy's hugs). She smelt of rose perfume, and flour, and her embrace was warm and safe. 

'You are such a little sweetheart,' Helen said. She pulled back to get a better look at the child who had managed to worm her way into her daughter's heart. Peggy had sworn up and down that no one would ever call her mother, so Helen was looking forward to seeing what it was about Natasha that changed her daughter's mind. 'And so tiny. Are you ready to meet your grandpa?'

Natasha looked from one woman to the other and then nodded her head. Her grandmother scooped her up, and carried her into the house where the head of the household waited patiently to meet his daughter, and granddaughter. He would have gone out to meet them right away, but they didn't want to overwhelm the poor child on her first day.

But once inside, Peggy's father made a beeline to his daughter and for the second time that day Peggy found herself in a bone-crushing embrace.

'Thank God you're all right,' he said. It was hard on him, hard on both of them, to see their children go off to war, knowing they could very well die, and being helpless to do anything about it. Many of his friends and neighbors had buried their sons, so every reunion was that much more precious.

'I'm okay, dad. We're all okay,' Peggy said. 'Now come on, no tears. We're all safe and sound, and God willing we'll all stay that way for a good long time.'

'Grandpa, are you okay? Are you sad?'

'No, sweetie, I'm not sad at all, I'm just relieved,' Micheal replied. The older man was nearly six feet tall, and what was left of his hair was as while as snow. 'And you must be me my little granddaughter. How about a great big hug for your grandpa?'

The little redhead practically lept into his arms earning a startled yelp from Helen, and a delighted laugh from her grandfather, Micheal. Any earlier shyness miraculously disappeared as Natasha clung to the older man. 

'Ahem. I hate to spoil this little reunion,' the millionaire said from the doorway, the Sargent was behind him. 'But my arms are ready to fall off. Where do you want this stuff?'

'I'm so sorry,' Peggy said. 'Please come in, come in. I'll show you to the kitchen.'

'That's Uncle Howard and Uncle James,' Natasha explained to her grandparents while Peggy led the two men into the house. 'Mommy says there's still rationing, so she brought a whole bunch of stuff from America. Wasn't that nice of her?'

Helen smiled brightly. 'That was very nice of her, but why don't we go, and meet your Uncles?'

They entered the kitchen to find the brunette directing the two men on where to put bags of flour, canned goods, and tins of teas. Helen and Micheal couldn't help but well a little with pride at how easily their daughter managed to order about the American millionaire, and Canadian soldier. 

Once they finished, Peggy made formal introductions.

'Would you gentlemen be staying for tea?' Helen asked.

'No ma'am,' James replied. 'I'm afraid once we get these two settled, we gotta go. We got some business to take care of.'

Howard nodded his head in agreement. 'We have an appointment we need to get to shortly. But we'll take you up on the offer, if it still stands, when we pick up the ladies in two weeks.'

'We'll hold you to that,' the older woman said. 

True to their word, the two males dragged in Peggy and Natasha's suitcases, and placed them in their room before beating a hasty departure. 

Once the car was no longer visible the three adults, and child went back inside the house, and into the living room where they each took a seat. Natasha and her grandfather sat on the recliner, where the little redhead made herself comfortable on his lap, while the two women sat on the sofa. Jet lag was starting to take its toll on the youngest Carter: the little girl was rubbing her eyes, and she couldn't fight a large yawn. The brunette was faring much better, but she was used to flying through different time zones.

'So, I know what the letters you've been sending us say,' Peggy's father said after a pause. 'But what's the real story.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The good news is the next chapter is about 80% done. So hopefully it will be done in a more timely manner. I'm thinking maybe two or three more chapters with grandma and grandpa, and then back to the states.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, this chapter was almost done when I posted chapter 10, but then I decided I didn't like it, and I ended up pretty much rewriting the whole thing several times. 
> 
> I'm still not sure I like it, but like I said I've written and rewritten, and I can't think of how to make it better.

A/N: So, this chapter was almost done when I posted chapter 10, but then I decided I didn't like it, and I ended up pretty much rewriting the whole thing several times. 

I'm still not sure I like it, but like I said I've written and rewritten, and I can't think of how to make it better. 

Chapter 11.

The sky was turning gray, and the air was getting chillier. Tiny snowflakes began to flutter and dance as they fell to the ground. It would be several hours before accumulation would be visible, and early morning before the neighborhood children would be able to gather outside for the season's first snowball fights, and snowman and snow-fort building.

Jetlag had finally caught up with Natasha and she slept peacefully on Micheal's lap as the older man gently rubbed the little girl's back.

Peggy sat on the couch with a tumbler of whiskey in her hand as she spun her story of how she had became Natasha's mother. She told her parents about how it all started when they had heard that the Russians were working on a super-soldier serum using information that they got from spies that had infiltrated the SSR.

'We weren't expecting to see children's bodies piled like cords of woods when we got there. Nor were we expecting to find a survivor. And we certainly weren't expecting them to have managed to concoct a successful formula with a single successful test subject. 

That was the biggest surprise.'

The brunette paused and frowned a little at that, Natasha was most certainly not a test subject. She was a child, and a victim of Russia's ambition to create the perfect spy/soldier. 

Next to her, Helen clutched her daughter's arm. The older woman's face was pale as her mind conjured up mental pictures to go along with her daughter's words. 

'Mom? Are you okay? Do you need me to stop?' Peggy asked quietly. She unclenched her mother's hand so she could hold it, giving her a reassuring squeeze. 

'Don't worry about me, go on with your story,' Helen said with shake of her head. It wasn't always easy for the older woman to hear about what Peggy did for a living, hearing about the dangers she faced, and the monsters that she went up against. 

Peggy turned to her father and received a grim faced nod. But she couldn't help but notice that he was holding Natasha just a little bit closer, a little bit tighter.

'There's not much to tell,' Peggy said with a sigh. 'Or at least not much I'm allowed to tell, security clearance and all. As we suspected, the base was barren. Any useful information was either salvaged or destroyed. Natasha was lucky to have survived, and to have escaped from what the Russians had planned for her.'

'You mean she was lucky to have been found by you,' Micheal said, and Helen nodded her agreement. 'I shudder to think what would have become of her had you decided not to investigate.'

And so didn't Peggy. What if they hadn't gone? What if the Russians had returned? Or worse what if they hadn't? Who knows what would have happened to her little girl, the serum did have its limits after all. 

Or at least Steve's did.

The brunette shook her head against those thoughts, Natasha was here and safe. She would grow up beloved by many people in a unconventional family. 

'You know, it started out as pity, I think. She was such a pitiful little creature. You should have seen her huddled under that bunk bed practically naked, and covered in burns. But by the time we got back to base I knew I wasn't going to just give her away. I knew I was going to fight to keep her. I just didn't know how at the time,' Peggy said. 'Gail was the one who came up with the idea of forging a birth certificate, and marriage license.'

Micheal huffed a laugh. 'I always did like that girl.'

A slow smile spread across Peggy's face as she watched the little redhead's chest rise and fall. There was something inherently peaceful in watching her daughter sleep that had been sorely lacking in her life in recent years. 

'Why?' her mother asked after several moments of silence. Helen's voice cracked a little at the end, and she shook with emotion. 'Why not just take them?'

'They're expendable,' Micheal replied, his mouth a grim line of anger. 'This damned war made a lot of children orphaned, there's plenty more where they came from. Natasha was a lucky little girl to have survived, and been found by Margret.'

Helen looked at her daughter, and shook her head, not in disagreement over her husband's assessment, but in wonderment. 

'I don't know how you do it Margret,' she finally said. 

'I do it because I want to, and because someone has to,' Peggy said. Her eyes burned with determination as she stared out the window. Now that Steve was gone, the brunette felt as if it were job, her responsibility to to carry on his fight to protect people from monsters, both human and alien.

'How does the serum they gave Natasha differ from the one they gave Captain Rogers?' Micheal asked. On his lap the redhead twitched and stirred as if she were in a particularly animated dream. Instinctively he stroked her head and whispered reassuring words until she stilled, unconsciously snuggling into her grandfather's warmth.

'We don't know. And it could be days, or months, or even years before they come up with an answer,' Peggy said with a slight frown. 'But as far as abilities go, so far they seem to be identical, which makes the ruse of passing her off as his daughter all the more easier. 

The problem is, is that they administered the serum to a child. Aside from an elongated childhood, we don't know how the serum will affect her physical and mental development. She may theoretically end up stronger than Steve. Or she may plateau at some point. And then there is question of adolescence: what happens when the hormones of a teen mix with the serum in her blood.'

'Elongated childhood?' her mother asked. 'How long will she stay this small?'

'For several years possibly. The scientists predict that 70, 80 years from now she'll look somewhere in mid to late 20's.'

There was a stunned silence as the two older adults processed what their daughter had just told them. It didn't seem too farfetched to think that this little girl could live 100s of years, and the implications were both staggering and sad. How many generations of family and friends would she watch grow old and die while she remained young looking and healthy?

Helen gritted her teeth in anger. Those bastards had consigned an innocent girl to a life of either constant loss, or eventual bitter loneliness. All so that could compete with the Americans in some ridiculous arms race that neither country was going to win.

'I don't understand something though,' Helen asked after several moments of terse silence. 'Why give the serum to a child? Did they not know it would slow her aging?'

Peggy shrugged, and gave a shake of the head indicating that she had no idea what the Russians did or didn't know. 

'Erskine said that the serum they gave Steve would make a good man, great, but a bad man, worse,' Peggy said. While she spoke she gathered the three tumblers and brought them over to the meager liquor cabinet for a refill. 'But a child is neither intrinsically good or bad. So by giving it to her at such a young age they were essentially getting around that caveat. They could then train, and indoctrinate Natasha and any other girls however they wanted without the fear of another Red Skull.'

Micheal silently thanked his daughter when she handed him his drink. There was a thoughtful expression on his face as he watched Peggy hand his wife her own glass before taking a seat next to her.

'I was just thinking.' the older man said slowly. 'Fifteen years from now she'll still look like a child, right? Well if they constantly underestimate Margret for being a woman, think of how much damage someone with the body of a child, and a mind of a trained spy could do.'

'Jesus,' Helen muttered angrily before taking a large gulp of her drink. 

'I'm sorry,' Peggy said contrite. 'I'm sorry I dragged everyone into this. But everything I've done, every lie I told either on the phone or by letter was to protect Natasha. The Russians must never know that she survived, or that they had produced a working formula. The consequences would be dire for her, and dare I say the world.'

The Russians may have been their allies during the war, but that didn't mean they should be trusted. 

'I'm not angry with you my dear,' Helen said. 'I'm proud of you. We both are. It can't be easy being a single parent, but you did the right thing. And most importantly, you gave us a granddaughter.'

Peggy rolled her eyes, and shook her head in fond exasperation.

'Easy or not, it is exhausting.'

'Poor, poor darling,' her father said, but there was a wide grin on his that bellied his words of supposed sympathy.

Beside her, Helen didn't even bother to hide her mirth as a chuckle escaped. 

'You could be a little bit sympathetic,' Peggy said with a mock pout. 

'We have very little sympathy towards you, don't we Micheal?' Helen said. The brunette was glad to note that whatever sadness or anger that was in her mother's eyes had completely dissipated. And if it took them mocking her for to get that way, well that was fine by Peggy.

'I don't,' Micheal deadpanned. 'Finally, revenge for all those years of running around after you and brother.'

'Yes, well neither one of us were enhanced,' Peggy said, and for a moment she froze as creeping panic fluttered across her face as if the full force of what she was undertaking hit her. She had no idea how to raise a child. What was she thinking? What if she screwed up? 

'You'll be fine,' her father said reading her mind. 'Enhanced or not, she is a child. Which means she needs the same thing as any other child needs: love, discipline, and structure. But first and foremost is love. You give her that, and half the battle is won right there.'

Peggy gave a solemn nod. She could do that, she thought as she stared at the sleeping little girl. She could and would love Natasha with her whole heart.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy and Natasha make snow angels and have an existential conversation.

Chapter 12. 

The next morning, Natasha woke up early, and went to the window. It had been snowing hard when she had gone to bed the following night, and now everywhere she looked was covered in a blanket of white.

The sparkle in the little girl's eyes matched the sparkle of the freshly fallen snow as sunlight glinted off it. This wasn't the first time that Natasha had seen snow, but it was the first time she would be seeing/experiencing as a free child. There would be no guards with guns trained on them or scientists wrapped up tightly in thick furs as little girls were forced to endure subzero temperatures wearing nothing but the flimsiest of clothes. There would be no fights to the death, and no girls freezing their toes off.

'Mommy,' Natasha said softly as she poked the sleeping brunette. 'Mommy, wake up. It snowed outside, we have to go outside and play.'

Peggy gave an exaggerated grumble, and turned her back to the child as she pulled the blanket over head. Under the covers the brunette was awake and smirking, but Natasha didn't know that as she frowned at the lump on the bed.

'Mommy, wake up,' the redhead said with a pout. She had walked around the bed and was trying to peek under the covers. 'Mommy? Are you in there?'

'Boo!' Peggy said as she grabbed her daughter and pulled her under the blankets. The little redhead squirmed, and squealed, and giggled as her mother peppered her cheeks with kisses and tickled her tummy.

'I got you my little Nattie-cake, now I'm going to eat you up.'

Natasha's response was to shriek loud enough that her mother had to clamp a hand over the child's mouth.

'Shh, sweetheart you'll wake your grandparents,' Peggy whispered.

'Sorry,' the little girl stage-whispered once her mouth was free.

'Now, what were you saying about snow?'

The redhead's eyes lit up. 'It snowed last night, and you promised to teach me how to make snow angels and a snowman. So we have to go outside and play right now!'

'Right now?' Peggy repeated. She was doing her best to keep a straight face, but she couldn't help the small smile that crept along the tips of her lips. 'Right this very second?'

Natasha nodded her head so vigorously, that her mussed curls bobbed up and down. 

'Are you sure?'

'Yes,' Natasha replied impatiently.

'Are you positive?'

'Absolutely,' Natasha said, and her whole body was practically vibrating.

'You don't think we should . . . I don't know, maybe get dressed first?'

Natasha started to nod, but then stopped short, and blinked a couple of times before looking down at her pajamas, and bare feet. When she looked back up to her mother, she was wearing a sheepish look on her face.

'I was being silly, wasn't I?'

Peggy chuckled before leaning in to give her little girl a peck on the cheek. 'Just a little bit. But that's one of my jobs as your mother, isn't it? To make sure you don't do silly things like run outside in the snow in your pajamas.'

'But we can go outside, can't we?'

'Of course we can. What's the use in having winter clothes if you're not going to go outside and use them.' 

Peggy got of bed, she first went to their shared dresser, and pulled out a small airtight box and took out a small wrapped bar.

One of the things that had worried Peggy about bringing Natasha to England, was that there was still rationing going on. She knew her parents would gladly sacrifice their meager portions so that their granddaughter could have her fill, but the brunette didn't want to put them in that position. 

Thankfully the head cook was able to come to their aid. The night before they left, she stayed up late making and wrapping over two dozen of these little bars so that Natasha wouldn't have to go hungry. They were 3 by 3 inches and another inch deep and crammed with enough calories to keep a little girl going all day.

While Natasha ate her snack, Peggy went to her closet and pulled out their clothes, and began getting dressed. Once Natasha was finished eating, the brunette helped her get dressed and the two of them made their way quietly out of the house, and onto the porch that led to the small backyard. 

The little redhead looked up at Peggy wide-eyed, and filled with anticipation. Her little body was practically vibrating with barely suppressed excitement. 

'So what's on the agenda first, sweetheart?'

'I want to make a snow angel first!'

Natasha's excitement was infectious, and Peggy couldn't help but return her daughter's enthusiasm as they hurried down the stairs and into the yard. They were the first ones out, and the little girl took great pleasure in stomping fresh foot prints into the snow before lying on her back and creating her first angel right next to her mother's.

And as Peggy stared up at the blue sky rife with fluffy white clouds she couldn't help but think of the last time she made snow angels. . . .

_'Peggy are you insane?' Steve groused, but he allowed the brunette to drag him outside. 'You know I hate the winter, besides we're in the middle of a war, and we're a little too old to be making snow angels.'_

_'Oh, stop being such a stick in the mud, even the great and illustrious Captain America deserves an hour or two of r &r.'_

_'But, Peggy, snow angels? Really?'_

_'You said you were never well enough to make them as a child, so now I'm going to rectify that.'_

_'There were a lot of things I couldn't do before the serum because of my health. Are you going to rectify them all?'_

_Peggy stopped, and turned to the blond. Her smile was coy bordering on seductive. 'Well some things will have to wait until after the war when I have a ring on my finger. But for now we're going to make snow angels.'_

_It took a few seconds for what Peggy had inferred to sink in. When it did his cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink that made the brunette laugh out loud._

_'Geez, Peg, you're killing me,' he muttered._

_Her smile, if possible, grew wider until it seemed as if it would take over her whole face. 'Come on, one little snow angel, and then I promise I'll split my ration of hot chocolate with you. Deal?'_

_They never did get their hot chocolate, because as soon as they finished making their snow angel, the rest of the Howling Commandos came upon them. Good natured ribbing turned into a full out snowball fight, which Peggy and Steve won._

_It would be the last time all of them would be together before everything went to hell, before Bucky fell off the train, and Steve fell into the ice._

_And yet another promise was left unfulfilled . . ._

'Mommy? Mommy are you okay?'

Peggy blinked her eyes, her mind returning to the here and now. Natasha was kneeling in the snow beside her, hovering over her mother with a concerned look on her face.

'I'm fine sweetheart,' the older woman said. She plastered a smile onto her face hoping to alleviate her daughter's worry. 'I was just . . . thinking, and I got a little caught up in the past.'

'Were you thinking about papa?' 

Caught momentarily off guard Peggy's mouth moved but no sound came out. This was the first time that she had heard the redhead refer to Steve as her father and it knocked the breath right out of her. Because while it was one thing to forge the paperwork, and grill the child, it was another thing entirely to have Natasha refer to Steve as “papa” without any prompting. 

'Yes, I was,' Peggy finally said.

'Was it a good memory?'

The brunette nodded, and ran a gloved a hand down Natasha cheek which was turning pink from the cold. Their breathes mingled together in puffs of white before dissipating into the air. 'I wish you could have met him.'

'Me too,' the redhead said. Natasha then paused and looked down at the snow. Her whole demeanor was somber, far too somber for someone so young. 'Do you think he's in heaven with Anya? Do think he's watching over her, and the other girls like you watch over me?'

In all honesty Peggy wasn't sure she believed in God, or heaven and hell. She was too practical, or maybe she was just too jaded. She had seen far too much good and evil in this world to think that there was benevolent old man sitting above them. But she understood Natasha's need to believe in something greater, that there was some mercy if not in this world then the next, that her friend and all the other little girls are in a better place, and that they were being loved and cared for just as Natasha was down here.

(The little girl needed to believe in something to assuage the survivor's guilt that even now occasionally bubbled up and clouded her eyes.)

'I think so,' Peggy finally answered. And the mental image of Steve being surrounded by a gaggle of little Russian girls was enough to bring a smile to her face. 'So, does this mean I'm your guardian angel?'

'No, you're just my sweet mommy,' Natasha said with a laugh that implied that she thought her mother's question was silly. She kissed the brunette's forehead, and then rested her little check upon it. 'God didn't need us right now, that's why He sent you to me, so we wouldn't be lonely.'

'Is that so?' Peggy murmured. It was a nice thought that brought a fluttering of peace to her restless heart. Mercy and kindness: how else to explain why two souls that would normally have never met meeting and forming a little family?

She looked at the clouds, tried to see past them, maybe just maybe there was something out there beyond her mortal comprehension. Maybe, just maybe there was someone or something that took a moment out of their busy schedule of running the universe to bestow upon two lonely females a little charity. 

'One day we'll see each other, right mommy?' Natasha said breaking into her mother's thoughts. She raised her head so that she looking into the brunette's eyes. 'And then we'll be a family.'

'Well, not for a very long, long, long time I should think,' Peggy said with a chuckle, there was plenty of work to do down here, and she had no intention of going anywhere until she was done. She got up from her prone position and Natasha took her spot by her mother's side. They admired their work in silence for a moment before the redhead took Peggy's arm and tugged it.

'Let's make more!'

Once again Natasha's enthusiasm was infectious, and the brunette found thoughts of the past fall away as she chased the little girl around the yard.


	13. chapter 13

The quiet of the afternoon was broken by the pitter-patter of little feet, and the barely suppressed giggle of a little girl. Natasha scampered into the kitchen where her mother and grandmother were enjoying tea and conversation. In the background they could hear Micheal counting, and were able to surmise that that the two were playing hide-and-go-seek. 

'Don't tell grandpa where I am,' Natasha staged-whispered to the older females before taking her hiding spot under the kitchen table.

Nearly 30 seconds later the counting stopped, and was followed by heavier footfalls making their way into the kitchen. 

'Now where is my little Nattie?' Micheal wondered aloud as he made his way around the room. Natasha's hiding spot wasn't particularly good, he could see her plain as day as he entered the room, but he played along for the sake of the little girl. 

The two woman watched in amusement as he deliberately walked past the kitchen table, and instead went over to the counter. 

'Nattie is such a teeny-tiny little girl, I bet she could be anywhere,' Micheal mused. 'Why, she could be in this cookie jar.' 

He picked up the container, and made a show of looking inside, shifting it left and right, and up and down, as if the redhead could possibly be hiding in some dark nook. Natasha covered her mouth but she couldn't fully contain her laughter as she watched her grandfather pick up plates and spoons to look meticulously under them, and she nearly fell over when he started to pick through her mother's hair.

Finally he let out a sigh of false resignation. He knew right where she was, especially since she was practically poking her head out from under the table. Natasha stared wide-eyed as he walked by her spot only to shriek when he turned suddenly, grabbed her by the arms, and pulled into a rough bear hug. The embrace quickly turned into a tickling session where Micheal nuzzled the little girl's cheeks leaving them red from his stubble.

'I don't think Nattie quite understands the concept of hide-and-go-seek,' the older woman said to her daughter.

'I understand,' Natasha replied instead. She was breathless, and her cheeks were bright red as she and her grandfather took a seat at the table. 'Me and Uncle Gabe, and Uncle Dum-Dum play all the time and they can never find me. But Uncle Dum-Dum said that you're very, very, very old, and that I need to be careful so I don't accidentally hurt you.'

'Is that so?' Micheal deadpanned. He leveled a look to his daughter who merely shrugged sheepishly. 

'He was trying to explain what grandparents were to Natasha.' Peggy said. 'I think he was having a little fun by exaggerating your ages.'

The older man narrowed his eyes slightly. 'How old does she think we are?' 

'Well . . . '

'Grandpa, did you really have a pet dinosaur? Was it the big one with the little tiny arms? I don't think I'd like one of those because their poop would be really humungous, and it'd be really smelly, and all the neighbors would complain, and then they would call the cops, and the cops would come and try to arrest you, but they wouldn't be able to because the smell would be so bad they would have to hold their noses with one hand, and you can't arrest someone with one hand.'

The three adults with various degrees of success did their best to stifle their laugh. 

'No, sweetie, I didn't have one of those,' Micheal said. 

'How about a flying dinosaur? That would be super neat. If I had one of those then I could fly here whenever I wanted, and I wouldn't have to wait for Uncle Howard.'

'I'm afraid I didn't have one of those either.'

'Did you have a teeny-tiny one you could cuddle with?'

'I'm afraid that I'm not as old as your uncle thinks I am,' Micheal said with a chuckle. He was doing a lot better than his wife and daughter at keeping his composure as the two women were hiding their laughter behind their mugs of tea. 'All the dinosaurs were extinct when I was your age.' 

'Aw, that's too bad. How about you grandma? Did you have a pet dinosaur?'

Quickly regaining her composure when Natasha's attention fell on her, Helen shook her head ruefully. 'No sweetie, I didn't.'

'If you want I'll give Dum-Dum a good smack for you,' Peggy offered. 

'Nah,' her father said. 'He was just being silly, wasn't he Nattie?'

'Uncle Dum-Dum says silly things all the time. Mommy is always telling him to stop talking, but he just laughs and keeps saying more silly things,' Natasha said before lowering her voice like she was trying, and failing, to tell the older man a secret. 'I think he does it on purpose.'

'Really?' Micheal said, his voice lowered to match hers. Over the little redhead's head he glanced at his daughter who was rolling her eyes slightly, before taking a sip from her teacup.

Natasha gave him a solemn-eyed nod. 'But don't tell her that.'

'Oh, I promise, I won't say a word to her.' Micheal said. His expression was completely serious but it soon dissolved into a wide smile. 'You are just too cute Nattie. I must tickle your little tummy.'

'Not at the table you won't.' Helen said. 'The three of you go to the living-room so I can get dinner started.'

'Oh, can I help, grandma?' Natasha asked. 'Can I please?'

'I would love to have help, but first you have to wash your hands, and then you can knead the dough for rolls.'

While Peggy and Micheal vacated the kitchen, Helen lifted her granddaughter up to use the sink before placing her on a chair where she could reach the table. The older woman measured the ingredients in a large glass bowl before sliding over to her little helper. The little girl didn't need prompting or instructions as she dipped her hands into the bowl and began kneading the bread dough like she had done it a 100 times before. 

'Grandma,' Natasha said after a few moments. 'Are you and grandpa mad at mommy for taking me home?'

The older woman turned her attention to the girl. Her hands, covered in flour, were still as she stared up at her grandmother with wide green eyes. 

'Nattie, why would you think a thing like that?'

'Mommy was nervous before we got here, and she wouldn't tell me why. I thought maybe she did something wrong by being my mommy.'

'Oh Nattie,' Helen said. She gathered the little girl into arms not caring about flour on her apron, and held her close and tight. 'We are very happy to have you in this family. And your grandfather and I love you as much as your mother does.'

'That much?' Natasha asked slightly awed as she pulled away slightly. Peggy told her daughter that she loved her from the moon and back.

'Yes, that much. Your mother was just being a nervous Nellie.'

The little girl's shoulders slumped in relief. She hadn't wanted for her mother to get in trouble because of her.

'Besides if I didn't want you here, I wouldn't have made you presents.'

'You made me presents?! I made you presents too!' 

'Well after dinner and desert we'll go into the living room, and open them, okay?' Helen said with a laugh. 

Natasha nodded happily, and went back to her chore with much more vigor than before. The older woman watched and wondered. According to Peggy, this small child was as strong and quick as a junior flyweight boxer, and was reading and writing like someone twice her age. 

It really was a good thing the SSR had found her, who knew what the Russians would have done to her had they managed to keep her. They seemed to have no regard for any child's life, and there was no reason for Helen to believe that they would have treated Natasha as anymore than a living weapon. At least now with Margret as her mother, and surrounded by her and her grandfather, and her aunts and uncles, she had a chance to grow up in a loving, albeit unconventional family.

'All right sweetie, I think you kneaded it enough,' Helen said. She upturned the bowl and proceed to divvy the lump of dough into even portions. Once again without waiting for instructions, Natasha took the portions and began to roll them into perfectly round balls.

'I take it you've done this before?'

'I help the cook all the time,' Natasha said with pride. 'She says I'm her favorite helper.'

'I'm sure you are,' Helen said amused as she started on the rest of dinner. 'But it must be awfully boring at the base. What do you do there?'

'Lots of things,' Natasha said with a small shrug. 'I do morning exercises with my uncles, and I have my own desk just like mommy, and I draw pictures and read books there. And sometimes I listen to the radio. I like “Captain America's Adventure Time” but I don't think mommy does. She keeps yelling at Aunt Gail to turn that crap off. And then she gets a grouchy look on her face, and Aunt Gail thinks it's funny so she turns the radio up.'

Helen couldn't help but laugh, she remembered getting a letter telling in great detail, and with much vitriol why Betty Carver was an insult to her, and every woman who served in the war.

'What else do you do?'

'Um, well Uncle James teaches me and mommy how to fight. And Aunt Gail is teaching me how to use a bow and arrow.'

'Why a bow and arrow?' Helen asked with a confused shake of her head. 

Natasha shrugged. 'I don't know. All I know is that she's really, really, really good.'

'Don't you go outside and play?' the older woman asked. Once Natasha was done, Helen took the pan of rolls, and put them in the oven before returning her attention to her granddaughter.

'Of course I do. Sometimes me and mommy go to the lake, and I chase the frogs, and sometimes I find a pretty rock to take home, and one time I found an arrowhead, and mommy said that it was hundreds of years old. And sometimes Aunt Gail comes with us, and she brings a bottle of schnapps with her. But they won't let me have any because they say I'm too young. And sometimes the cook brings her little boy over, and we play. But I have to be very careful because he's smaller than me, and not as strong.'

Helen chuckled. She had been worried that a small child would be bored or in the way, but it looked like Natasha had plenty to do, and plenty of people taking an interest in her well being. 

But still a bow and arrow? Nobody in their right mind would ever bring that onto a battlefield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Gail likes the color purple and archery, whose grandmother could I possibly be setting her up to be??? ;)


	14. chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I'm an idiot and didn't post chapter 13 when I posted it FF.net, you are getting a 2 chapter update.

Two weeks flew by in a flurry of snowman building, hide-and-go-seek playing, tickle-fests, and afternoon naps. At least a half dozen books were read multiple times, and countless hours of radio-listening took place. But it wasn't all fun and games, Natasha turned out to not only be a good helper in the kitchen, but a good helper when it came to cleaning the house. Often times she could be seen as Helen's second shadow as she went about dusting or sweeping. 

Little Natasha was also taken to nearby relatives where she was cooed and coddled over. Each member of the Carter clan took to the redhead, and were more than happy to take up their part in making sure that no one ever found out about her true origins.

It was in this matter that time passed quickly and eventfully, making it seem as if no time at all had passed before Natasha and Peggy's traveling companions arrived to retrieve them.

'Uncle James! Uncle Howard!' the redhead said as she scrambled down the stairs with all the enthusiasm of a puppy greeting its master after a long absence. Her face was lit up in unmitigated joy as she lept into James's open arms, hugging him tightly, and peppering his face with kisses. 

'Hey, don't I get kisses?' Howard asked. 

Natasha's answer was to leap into his waiting arms, and repeat her greeting to the millionaire.

'Did you guys have a good time? Did you get all your work done? Did you buy me a present?'

'Natasha!' a voice from above admonished. 

The two men and child looked up the staircase to Peggy, who was making her way down in a less frenetic manner than her daughter. 

'Aw don't be too hard on the kid,' Howlett drawled. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small teddy bear which Natasha happily received, and pulled into hug. 'At least she's easy to buy for.'

Peggy's smile was tinged with sadness. The Sargent was right, any little gift was received with the same amount of gratitude that one would get for a diamond ring, or mink coat. 

'Yeah, besides she's just acting like a typical female,' Howard piped in.

The brunette rolled her eyes. Once she reached the bottom of the stairs she greeted James with a kiss on the cheek, and a warm hug.

'No wonder you're always single with an attitude like that.' 

'You say that like it's a bad thing,' Howard said. 'And what? No hugs and kisses? I thought we were pals? What's he got that I don't?' 

'We don't have enough time for me to make that list.'

'I walked into that one, didn't I?' Howard asked rhetorically. 'But at least someone around here likes me.'

'Mommy likes you, she just thinks you're a womanizing jerk who drinks too much.'

Peggy and James laughed while Howard face took on a mock hurt look.

'Thanks, kid,' he deadpanned. 'You really know how to make a guy feel good.'

'Your welcome, uncle Howard,' Natasha said in her most sincerest voice which won her even more laughter from the other adults.

'Come along,' Peggy said, a grin spread across her face. 'I'm certain my mother's wondering what's taking so long.'

The brunette led the two men and Natasha into the kitchen where they were warmly greeted by Peggy's parents. All six then took seats around the table where the redhead switched from Howard to her grandfather's lap. Tea was served as well as small talk about the weather, holiday plans and the flight over. Natasha then took over, regaling her uncles on everything she did, and everyone she met.

'So, how were your meetings?' Peggy asked. The look she gave the millionaire dared him to try to evade answering.

Howard and James shared a look before the Canadian shrugged his shoulders half in defeat and half in acquiescence. 

'You might as well tell her what's going on Stark. She's gonna figure it out sooner or later.'

Howard gave a small sigh in defeat. 'I was going to wait until we were back in the states and then announce it to everyone at the same time. But, maybe it would be for the best if I told you what's going to be happening in the future. Especially since you're going to be having such a large role in it, that is if you're interested.'

Peggy's face took on a confused look with her parents mirroring her expression. 'What are you up to Howard Stark?' 

'Well, the war's been over for over three years,' Howard started, and then raised a placating hand when he saw Peggy's mouth open in what no doubt would have been a cutting, sarcastic remark. 'But we're still out there fighting the good fight.'

'Yes, well unfortunately not all of HYDRA got that message. Not to mention there are still alien artifacts out there that the world is ill prepared to handle,' Peggy said. After the death of the Red Skull, HYDRA should have fallen like a house of card, and it had. But instead of merely disintegrating, other organizations were rising in its place.

Not to mention the Russians.

'Yes, well despite that, the government is getting tired of paying our bills. They want to cut our funding.'

'Again? How much this time?' This wasn't the first time that their funding had been cut, and if he hadn't been for Howard they would have felt the pinch of lost funds much more acutely. 

'Completely, as of January first, Camp Lehigh will be shut down, and all personnel will be absorbed into other government agencies, or let go with honorable discharges.'

Peggy shook her head in exasperation. There was no other organization in the world better able to handle the kind of other worldly insanity that the SSR was. To have the United States government systematically shut them down was foolish and an open invitation for any country, agency or madman to seek out these artifacts, and use them for some nefarious purpose. 

But, there was a part of her that understood. The war had been long and costly, and even though America's landscape hadn't suffered in the same ways as Europe's, they had suffered in blood and treasure as well. 

'Then why were you speaking to members of Parliament?' Peggy asked as something dawned on her. Why would he need to make a trip to allied nations' respective governments if the SSR were being disbanded. 'Are you trying to find funding somewhere else?'

'I wish,' Stark said with a small snort. 'I don't think any European nation is going to be making monetary contributions any time soon. But that wasn't what I was looking for. What I was looking for was permission and cooperation. Like I said, winter is coming.'

'That sounds like something from a book,' Peggy said, her eyebrow quirked in question. 'Now stop being cryptic, and get to the point.' 

'Fine. As of January 1st the SSR is dead. But the need for what we do is still exists, will always exist. It's just going to have to be small, and privately funded. That's where the meetings come in, I need permission to operate in our allies' nations if the need arises, and I need their cooperation and intelligence since we won't be able to be everywhere all the time.'

'And what is my role in all this?'

'Colonel Phillips will be director, at least until he retires. I'll be in charge of R&D and financing, and we want you to be co-director and in charge of recruitment and training,' Howard said. He reached across the table and took Peggy's hand. She was too shocked by the turn of events to pull away or admonish the genius for taking liberties. 'But most importantly we need you to be our moral compass. This is a new endeavor, and we need you to make sure we stay on the straight and narrow,'

'Moral compass?'

'Yeah. Everyone knows that you helped Steve find his way when he was lost. We need you to do the same for the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement Logistics Division, or SHIELD for short.'

Peggy stared wide-eyed for several moments before a slow smile spread across her face. 'You really wanted to spell SHIELD badly, didn't you?'

'It was Gail's idea,' James cut in with a huff. 

'Well, I think it's a fine idea,' Peggy said, before finally pulling her hand away from Howard.

'So, you'll take the job?' Howard asked, even though he knew the answer.

Peggy didn't need to think too hard, or too long. 

'Absolutely,' she said with a nod.

Finally some respect, Peggy thought as she was pulled into a congratulatory hug by her parents and Natasha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, back to the states.


	15. Chapter 15

Peggy stared down from her window-seat as the two new guards spoke to Agent Flynn, though it was mostly her superior (soon to to be ex-superior)who was doing the talking, the two men were largely just nodding their heads in acquiesce. 

One of them, as if he could sense he was being watched, looked up at the window where she and Natasha sat, and gave a curt, almost imperceptible nod. He may have been in his 20's for all she knew, but there was something in his eyes that made Peggy think of the term “old soul”. There was a weathered look about him, like he had seen much evil in his time, and it weighs down his soul like an anchor.

He tugged at his thick bushy mustache before returning his attention to Flynn.

The brunette leant down, and kissed the little redhead sitting on her lap, and held her tightly to her chest. She softly hummed a lullaby she had learnt from her own mother when she was a child, and rocked Natasha gently. 

The little girl smelt sweetly of shampoo and bubble bath from her weekly bath, and the child's breathing was the slow, and steady rhythm of someone edging toward sleep. The evening was winding down, and it was almost Natasha's bedtime. It was peaceful with just the two of them staring at the encampment below, the sky above.

'Agent Flynn doesn't like us, does he?' Natasha asked, breaking into her mother's thoughts. The child's voice was slightly groggy, and she was rubbing her at her eyes. 

'No, I'm afraid he doesn't like us at all.'

'But why? I'm just a kid. And you're . . . you're the nicest person in the whole wide world. And you're smart, and brave, and strong, and . . . and you're pretty, and you smell nice, and you make yummy eggs and . . . '

Peggy cupped Natasha's mouth with her hand to get the child to stop talking, but the brunette was smiling. 'I get your point, sweetheart, and thank-you,' she said and kissed the top of her daughter's head.

'So why doesn't he like us?' the redhead said once her mouth was free. 'Did we do something wrong?'

'Well . . . in his eyes we did.' Peggy then paused for a moment. How do you explain misogamy and sexism to a small child? 'We're women you see. And men like Agent Flynn think that women have certain roles to fill, and they don't entail fighting, or being an agent.'

'Well, what do they entail?'

'Being a mother, and a wife. Staying home, and taking care of the house. Being obedient to their husbands. He doesn't like that I'm independent, that I'm opinionated, and I don't put up with anyone's crap. I'm my own woman, first, last, and always. And he doesn't like that I'm passing on these traits to you. He thinks I'm corrupting you.'

Natasha thought about that for several moments. Her face was scrunched up cutely as she mulled over her mother's words.

'That's stupid. You're the best mommy in the whole world,' the redhead said. She pulled away so that she could look her mother in the eyes. 'I want to be just like you when I grow up.'

'Do you now?' Peggy's voice was light, but she couldn't help the swell of pride she felt in her heart. She had fought her whole life it seemed for some modicum of respect, but hearing the pride in her daughter's voice made her realize this was all the respect that she needed. Her worth did not come from sexist assholes, but from knowing herself, and passing on those lessons to Natasha.

'Uh-huh,' Natasha said. Her voice was becoming sluggish, and she rubbed her eyes tiredly. But she was a stubborn little girl, (like her mother) and she refused to give in to exhaustion. She wanted to stay up with Peggy for as long as possible. 

'It looks like someone is getting sleepy.'

'Then you should go to bed.'

The brunette tugged at one of her daughter's curls. 'Very funny, but I was referring to you.'

'Aw, do I have to? I'm not tired at all.'

A moment later the child was fighting back a wide yarn.

Peggy quirked an eyebrow. 'Really? You're not tired at all?'

'Maybe a little bit,' her daughter conceded. 'But I don't want to go to sleep. Because then you disappear, and what if you disappear forever?'

'I'm not going to disappear forever,' Peggy said. She gathered the child in a hug, held her close, and rocked back and forth. 'Is it the nightmares? Is that why you don't want to go to sleep?'

Natasha gave a small tentative nod. 

Peggy rested her head on top of the child's head, and frowned deeply. The little redhead had been doing so well, had been adapting to her new life so quickly. But in these last few days since they returned from England, there have been setbacks. Natasha has been suffering from nightmares, she's been anxious, and more clingy than usual. 

The only thing the brunette could think of that was different was the addition of the new guards. Was there something specific about them that was making her daughter upset? Or was it a general they're new people, and in time she'll be fine?

'What do you think of the new guards?'

'I don't like them. I don't like the way they smell.'

'Nattie, that's not very nice. Why would you say something like that?'

'Because it's true. They smell like the Academy, and I don't like that.'

Peggy's hold on her daughter tightened slightly, and her eyes widened, as her brain raced to catch up with what was just said. 'Are you sure about that? One-hundred percent sure?'

Natasha nodded her head. When she looked into Peggy's eyes, the brunette could see open fear written all over the little girl's face. 'You're not going to send me back, are you? I promise I'll be good. I won't ask for any presents, or food, or anything. I'll stay in a corner, and you won't even know I'm there. Just don't send me back.'

'Natasha . . . Oh, Natasha. Why would you ever think such a thing?' Peggy said. She had to pause for a momentarily so she could swallow around the lump in her throat. 'You are my little girl. My silly little girl. No one is going to take you anywhere, ever.' 

'But . . .'

'But nothing. Even though I didn't bring you into this world, it doesn't mean I love you any less, or that I won't fight tooth and nail to make sure you never go through what the Russians had planned for you. I am never, ever going to send you away. You are my daughter. Do you know what that means? It means forever. It means no matter how big, and strong you become, you will always be my little girl, and I will always be your mother.'

'Promise?'

'Promise.'

'I love you too, Mommy,' Natasha said, and gave her mother a kiss on both cheeks. 'But, what are you going to do about the guards?'

'I'll speak with Colonel Phillips in the morning. They being here might not have anything to do with you. (Peggy wasn't hold her breath on that one.) In the meanwhile, be careful around them. You still have a bit of a Russian accent, so speak as little as possible when they're there. And if you smell anyone, or anything else suspicious tell me right away. Okay?'

'Okay,' Natasha said with a nod, and then her eyes brightened. 'Does this mean I'm an agent like you?'

And despite the situation, Peggy couldn't help but laugh at the way her daughter's face lit up. 'You're a little young to be an agent like me. But . . . you're just the right age to be a junior agent.'

There was no such thing as a junior agent, but the brunette couldn't bring herself to squash the look in the little girl's eyes.

'I am? Does that mean I get to have a gun?'

'No, junior agents don't get any weapons. Your job is to just observe, and tell me if you find anything, or anyone that could be causing trouble.'

'I can do that. You can count on me.'

'I know I can,' Peggy said. 'But now it's time for bed.'

'Aw. Do I have to?' 

'Yes, you have to. You can sleep with me. Would that help?'

Natasha nodded. 'And can teddy bear sleep with us? And can I have a story?'

Peggy rolled her eyes, and smiled indulgently down at the redhead. 'All right, get into bed, and I'll read a bit to the both of you.'

The child crowed in triumph, but jumped off her mother's lap, and grabbed her teddy bear from her bed. She then crawled under the covers of her mother's bed, and taking the spot on the left side. Peggy watched her daughter for a few moments, before she grabbed a book of fairy tales from the small bookcase, took a seat on her bed, and began to read.

The little redhead did her best to keep her eyes opened, she liked the story, she liked how the brunette read it, giving each character their own distinctive voice, but it was a losing battle. Her eyes slowly drifted, and by the half-way mark she was out like a light clutching her teddy bear closely to her chest. Peggy looked down in contentment at the child who was even in sleep, smiling.

'Good-night, sweetheart,' Peggy said quietly, careful not to wake her, even as she leant down, and kissed her daughter's forehead. 'I love you, Nattie.'

'Love you too, Mommy,' came the mumbled response.

She took one last look at her daughter's sleeping form, and went to the small bookshelf where she switched the child's book for one of her own. She then began her own nightly rituals for getting ready for bed. Make-up was washed off, and she changed from her uniform to a simple cream-colored nightgown. Clothes were put out for the next day, and the hotplate was checked to make sure it was off and unplugged. The mugs, and kettle used to make tea were already cleaned and dried, and sitting on a small shelf. 

(One of these days she'd like to take some of the money Howard gave her, and buy a small house just for the two of them.)

She then checked the windows, and pulled the curtains closed after giving one last long look outside. Then came the door, which was locked. And lastly she checked her gun which was sitting in the top drawer of the nightstand by her bed. 

Once satisfied, she climbed into bed and read, or rather tried to read, her book. But her mind kept drifting back to those two new guards. Had the Russians somehow figured out that there was a survivor? Or was this much more standard cloak and dagger stuff?

Peggy shook her head after nearly ten minutes of reading the same paragraph, reading was turning out to be bust, so she might as well try to sleep. She put her book aside, turned out the lights, and climbed under the covers. Within minutes, Natasha was snuggled tightly within the brunette's embrace. She fell asleep gently stroking the child's red hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1, 'I'm my own woman, first, last and always.' This is my favorite Black Widow quote. I definitely think that Peggy would subscribe to this as well. And I like the idea of Natasha learning it from her mother. 
> 
> 2\. So, I really, really, really, want to write a Christmas chapter but in order to do that I would have to push the next chapter off, and I'm worried it's going to mess things up.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you recall from the previous chapter, I had expressed a desire to do a Christmas chapter. I was worried it would be too much of an interruption to the flow of the story, but someone suggested doing it as a separate one-shot.
> 
> So, that is what I'm going to do. On Christmas morning before I head to the family's and eat my weight in something, I will be posting a Christmas chapter.

Agent Flynn liked to remind Peggy that the only reason she was still with the SSR was that she was Captain America's sweetheart. It doesn't matter how many HYDRA agents she had killed, how many codes she'd broken, how many languages she spoke, all he saw was a woman. A weak, and silly woman who should know her place, and not be allowed into the boys' club.

The brunette sighed to herself. She was looking forward to reporting to him as much as she was looking forward to stubbing her toe. There was noway that he would take the word of a child that there was danger brewing somewhere on base. Especially since he was the one who approved the two guards transfers, but also because the man seemed to have as much contempt for Natasha as he did for her the brunettes. (Peggy seriously pitied the woman who ended up as his wife, or any daughters he may father.)

But he was her superior (for now), and therefore he, and Colonel Phillips needed to know what was going on, even though she knew she was opening herself to a world of mockery.

'You want us to what, Agent Carter? Publicly hang them by their toenails, because your brat says they smell funny.'

'She's not a brat, she's my daughter. And I would thank you to remember that.'

'And I would thank you to remember that you are merely playing a role. That kid she is no more your daughter than you are mine.'

'And I thank God for that fact every chance I get.'

'Enough out the two of you,' the Colonel said. 'You have to admit, as much as it pains you, Agent Carter, he has a point. We can hardly throw them into an interrogation room based on what a child's nose tells her.'

'I wouldn't dismiss it outright either,' Sargent Howlett said from the seat next to Peggy. He was acting as a buffer zone between the brunette, and her boss. 'Her nose is more sensitive than a bloodhound. So, if Nattie says the two guards remind her of the Red Room, I'd listen.'

'And what if she's wrong?' Flynn asked. 'You're going to drag two good men's reputation through the mud based on that?'

'They're only good because you say they are,' Peggy said. 'But the bigger question is; what if she's right? Are you really willing to risk peoples lives because you're a mulish man?'

'No one is going to drag anyone's reputation through the mud,' Phillips said. His hands were raised in placating gesture. The last thing he needed, or wanted, was for the two agents to get into a full-blown argument in his office. 'And no one is going to be thrown into an interrogation room without probable cause.'

'And I wasn't suggesting that either, sir,' Peggy said. 'But we came up with an elaborate plan to protect Natasha from this very danger. That the Russians would somehow find out that one of the girls had lived, and would want her back. The least we can do is keep tabs on them, I'd rather be too cautious then not cautious enough.'

'Hear, hear,' Howlett said. 'I'm certain Stark's got some kind of gadgetry we can use to eavesdrop on them.'

'For the record,' Flynn said, and rose from his chair. 'I think this is a foolish idea. It's a waste of time and resources. And you Agent Carter need to control that brat of yours, and not give into her fantasies.'

The senior agent didn't wait for a dismissal; he left the office in a huff. 

'What an ass,' the Sargent said. 'Seriously, how do you work with him?'

'Mostly I ignore him,' Peggy said. 'But the sad thing is, there are worse out there. And I've worked with them. We all can't be as cosmopolitan as you.'

And it was true. As gruff and uncouth as he presented himself, he never looked at Peggy as she were anything less than his equal. 

'Yeah, well I don't feel like being knocked out like Hodges.'

She smiled briefly, before turning her attention to the Colonel who was starting to feel a little left out. 'I realize I may be asking for a lot based on so little evidence. But you're not the one who wakes up in the middle of night to Natasha's crying. She's genuinely terrified of the guards. She thinks they're going to take her away.'

The Colonel sighed, and rubbed his chin in thought. 'All right, all right. I'll speak to Stark and see if we can't figure something out. We'll keep you informed on what's happening, but your priority is to protect your little girl. In the meanwhile, you two are both dismissed.'

Carter, and Howlett stepped out into the chilly mid-morning air. They watched momentarily as their breath condensed into white puffs before floating off into the ether. 

'I appreciate you having my back in there,' Peggy said as they walked towards the offices. 

'I just told the truth, so no need to thank me,' he said. He pulled out one of his cigars, and lit it. He took several pulls and Peggy watched as the smoke drifted upwards. 'You can change a man's appearance, their name, or even their accent, but its very difficult to change their sent. It's years, and years of everything you ingest, everything you come across externally.'

'Really?'

'Yup. I can tell a lot about a person just by their scent.'

'Oh? And what can you tell about me?'

'That you're packing a lot of heat. And you got a bit of a sweet tooth.'

'Everyone knows I have a sweet tooth. Tell me something else.'

He leaned in, and took a deliberate whiff. 'You like whiskey, the good kind not the cheap shit. You've been drawing with Nattie: I can smell crayons on you. I can smell the kid on you as well, her scent is intertwined with yours like a undertone, Steve's there too, but its even less strong.'

'Really?' Peggy lifted her arm to her face, and inhaled deeply. She smelled nothing but leather, and perfume: she couldn't smell either Natasha or Steve. She couldn't help but be a little bit sad at that last part.

Howlett nodded. 'The closer you are to someone, the more you touch them, the more some of your sent transfers to them, and vice versa.' 

'So Nattie has a bit of my sent on her,' Peggy said. 'Amazing. I never thought one little sense could hold so much information. Will you teach her this? I know I'm asking a lot from you, but you seem quite knowledgeable, and I feel if Natasha doesn't learn all she can of her augmentations, she'll be at a distinct disadvantage when she gets older.'

'You're not asking for anything I'm not willing to give,' the Sargent said. 'Speaking of the runt, where is she?'

'She's with Gail. Learning archery of all things,' Peggy replied with a roll of her eyes.

'What is this? Cowboys, and Indians?'

'She says it's good for hand-eye-coordination, and strength control. Personally, I think Gail just wants a reason to pull out her bow and arrows, and show off.'

'And what are your plans?'

'Paperwork,' Peggy said with a disdainful shake of the head. 'I'm starting to feel like a glorified secretary.'

'Then play hooky for a while, and come train with me.'

She wanted to object, and say she couldn't, but there was a look in the man's eyes that gave her pause. 'So you really do believe her.'

'Yeah, I do. Those Russians spent a lot of time, energy, and money trying to perfect their serum. We handed them a major setback by invading their Red Room. It stands to reason they'd somehow try to return the favor. Getting Captain America's kid is good way to do that.'

Peggy hadn't thought of that. Natasha's “paternity” was a tightly held secret. But one slip from someone in the hearing of the wrong person would be all that it took to flush their carefully thought out plans down the drain. 

'We need to start upping your training,' Howlett said. 'Those men aren't Hodges, they're not going down with just a single punch.'

Peggy nodded in agreement. 'I'll meet you in the gym in 15 minutes.' 

They momentarily parted company, and while she detoured to her quarters to get her gear, she made a mental note to speak with Gail. Because while Howard had the tech, the blonde had the use of her feminine wiles to get information. 

And right now they needed all the information they could gather before they could make a move.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: Okay, so I am a lying liar who lies. I said this was going to be a separate chapter posted on Christmas, and it's not.
> 
> But hopefully you will so moved and captivated by my writing that you will forgive me, maybe? I mean I'm only a month and half late. :(

Peggy sat patiently at her desk. Her eyes were filled with teasing mirth, and her mouth wore a knowing smile. Every once in a while she took a sip of her tea as she watched her visitor nervously pace. A good five minutes had passed in this manner with him rambling on and on, his tone low and his words so lightning fast that the brunette could only catch every forth or fifth word. But it was enough to deduce what he was asking of her.

'You want my blessing to ask Gail to marry you, right?'

The man stopped in his tracks, and stared at her in wide-eyed wonder.

'I . . . yeah. You're the closest thing she has to family. It just seemed like the right thing to do.'

He was stunned that she had been able to make sense out of his ramblings. He knew his words were a muttered mess of nonsense and incoherency. And he knew it was probably silly to ask Peggy for her blessings, but she was Gail's best friend and they were practically sisters. If anyone could gauge how she would react to a proposal, it would be the brunette.

'So, let's see the ring,' Peggy commanded with hand held out.

He scrambled to the desk nearly dropping the box as he fumbled to open it, but finally he succeed. Peggy took the box and made a great show of of studying the band, and the stone. There was mischief in her eyes as she made appraising noises, and the poor man was practically drowning in a nervous sweat. 

'So? What do you think, Peggy?'

'Well . . .'

'Peggy, you're killing me.'

'All right, all right,' the brunette said before expression changed, her expression going from mischief to gentle. She then handed the box back. 'It's a beautiful ring.'

The man gave a large sigh before he snapped closed the ring box and stuffed it into his coat pocket. Jonathon “Johnie” Barton was just shy of the six foot mark, with piercing blue eyes and a military cut dark blonde hair. He was 32, but he looked closer to 45: there was something in the way he carried himself, the lines etched in his face that suggested a lot of hard living.

'Thanks, I don't think I've ever been this nervous in my life. I still can't believe my luck sometimes.'

'Well believe it. She loves you, and you love her and that's the best way to start any marriage.'

'So I have your blessings?'

'You do. And you also also get a warning. If you harm her, or disrespect her, or cause her any kind of heartache because you were a scoundrel, I will find you, I will kill you, and they will never find your body. Is that understood?'

If this had been anyone else, Johnie would have laughed thinking it were just a bunch of overprotective hyperbole. But something in the brunette's eyes gave him pause, there was a steely coldness in them that sent a shiver down his spine. He knew down to the marrow of his bones that she was not joking in the least. 

'Yes, ma'am,' the blond said, and he had to fight the urge to stand at attention and give a salute. 

'Good. I'm glad we got that settled,' Peggy said. And her eyes were back to a warm brown. 'Tea?' 

With a nod of his head, Johnie slumped into the seat across from the brunette. It was only after his first sip of tea that he looked around the bullpen. It was lunchtime, so the desks were empty, something he had been counting on when he had asked for this audience.

'So where's your little shadow?'

'Natasha's with her Aunt Gail. She somehow managed to procure enough money to buy Christmas gifts. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?'

'I'm sure I have no idea.'

'Really?' Peggy questioned, she gave Johnie a pointed look causing him to squirm a bit. 'You mean you and her uncles haven't been teaching a five-year-old how to play poker.'

'Uh . . . What? Me? No! What are you saying? No! That's crazy!'

'Is it?'

'Well . . . Yes. I mean . . . That is . . . Hey, look at the time. I have to go somewhere that isn't here,' Johnie said. He placed his cup on Peggy's desk and then awkwardly but quickly made his way out the door, nearly tripping several times in the process. 

Once the door was closed Peggy allowed herself a good laugh before getting back to work. Thanks to her extra training sessions with the Sargent, she was behind on her paperwork. But it was worth it, the sweat, and achy muscles, and bruises in places she didn't realize she could bruise. Because in the end, it meant that she would be that much more able to protect her little Natasha.

After a few moments passed a shiver went up her spine as if someone were staring at her. She looked up and around finally catching sight of one of the new guards in the doorway. 

'Sargent Paterson,' she acknowledged. Peggy plastered on her best fake smile, even as the words of her daughter played in mind. 'Shouldn't you be at lunch with the others?'

'I could ask the same of you. Even spies need to eat.' 

The Sargent's voice was flat, it held no discernible accent, or at least not one that Peggy could place. As a matter of fact, that was true for both guards. 

'Unless there's paperwork to be done. I need to get this to the colonel before the end of the day, or no Christmas party for me tomorrow. You?'

'I saw the light, I thought someone left it on in their haste to get to the mess-hall.'

Peggy chuckled. 'Have you tasted the food? No one in their right mind is in any hurry to get to that.'

Paterson's returning smile was thin and forced. Peggy suspected his visit wasn't as innocent as he would like her to believe. 

After a few more moments of terse, awkward small talk, the guard left. The brunette immediately got on the phone to the colonel and told him what went down, and what she suspected he was doing in the bullpen. 

Concentrating on her paperwork was hard after that. There was a nagging feeling in the back of her mind, and her instincts were screaming to not let those two out of her sights. There was less than a week until the base was officially shutdown, if those guards have anything planned it would have to happen soon.

 

-###########-

 

The sun was beginning its slow ascent over the camp when Peggy awoke at her usual hour. Heavy snowflakes were visible through the crack in the curtain, and a feeling of calm washed over the brunette. 

For the moment at least all was right with the world, all was peaceful. There was no megalomaniacs trying to conquer the world. There was no alien artifacts that needed to be contained, and hidden. 

It had been a long time since she genuinely looked forward to celebrating Christmas. It had been a long time since she looked forward to the festivities, and camaraderie that the holiday offered. 

Christmas just hadn't been the same without Steve and Bucky and their godawful singing of Christmas carols, which she still to this day suspected they did on purpose. And of course, Steve would have to defend some poor woman's honor, and more often then not the three of them with the rest of the Howling Commandos would end up in bar brawl. This ended with all of them being tossed out on their rears, and being banned from ever returning.

Peggy chuckled to herself before burrowing deeper into her pillow. 

Usually, she would be up and starting her morning rituals, but it was a holiday. A few moments more in bed wouldn't hurt.

Besides, it was just a matter a time before Natasha made her presence known.

And as if on cue, Peggy could feel a dip in her bed where a certain little redhead was. She felt her hair being pulled aside as well as a tiny breath on her ear.

'Mommy are you awake?' Natasha stage-whispered.

Peggy turned so that she was facing the redhead.

'No, sweetheart, I'm sound asleep.' And to prove her point, Peggy made loud obnoxious snoring noises even as her eyes were wide open.

It was worth it to see her daughter's face go from disappointed to accusatory.

'Hey! Wait a minute, how can you talk if you're asleep?'

'You got me sweetheart,' Peggy laughed. She then got up and gathered her daughter onto her lap where she peppered the little redhead's cheeks with kisses for several seconds. 'Did you check your stocking yet?'

Natasha gave a nervous little shake of her head. What if Santa hadn't come? The redhead hadn't heard him, and she had stayed up as long as she could with every one of her senses stretched to the max. Surely a man that big would have made some kind of sound, or left some kind of sent behind. Not to mention his flying reindeer, there was no way you could hide them.

But there had been nothing, and now Natasha was nervous, and just wanted her mother to make everything better.

'Oh sweetie. Come on, lets go look together.'

Peggy gathered the little girl into her arms, and the two went downstairs to the small waiting room. Natasha hid her head in the crook of her mother's shoulder, too nervous to look. There was a small table where cookies and milk had been laid out, both of which were empty. And hanging above it was a single stocking. 

'Nattie, look, I promised you he'd come.'

Natasha raised her head, and her eyes widened in happy shock as she eagerly grabbed the overflowing stocking and hugged it close to her chest.

'He came! He came!' Natasha said as several emotions played across her face in succession. But in the end, she was smiling brightly and practically bouncing in her mother's arms. 

'See? Didn't I tell you he would?' Peggy said with a quick kiss to her daughter's cheek. 'Now why don't we go back upstairs and see what you got.'

They quickly made their way back upstairs and into their room where they took seats on Natasha's bed. They were the only ones up, the others were taking advantage of the rare opportunity to sleep in a bit. This was just fine by Peggy, it meant that the two of them got to enjoy at least part of Natasha's first Christmas together privately. Once the afternoon and the party started, there would be too many people, too many sights and sounds, and too many activities vying for both their attention. 

'Santa smells like Uncle James,' Natasha observed as proceed to tug various items out of her stocking. 'Do you think that grandma and grandpa liked the presents we sent them.? Oh, it's Raggedy Ann!'

'Wow, that's very neat.' Peggy said with a smile and small shake of her head. Three minutes ago Natasha was nervous, now she was full of her usual energy, talking a mile a minute, and bouncing from subject to subject. 

'Look! It's the same kind of candies you gave me when we met. Do you remember?'

And sure enough Natasha had pried open a small tin of peppermint candies, and was holding one up for Peggy to take.

'Of course I remember. You were so tiny and scared, you didn't want to say a word to anyone the whole trip back to camp.' 

'I _was scared_ , mommy. I couldn't find anybody, and I hurted, and I thought I was all alone forever.'

Peggy tucked a stray lock of hair behind Natasha's ear, and pulled her close. 

'So did I,' Peggy murmured and rested her head on top of the little redhead's head. 

'But we're not alone anymore, mommy,' Natasha said. She pulled away so she could look the brunette in the eyes. 'We have each other and everyone else. So let's eat candy and be happy. It's Christmas!'

'Oh now I see, this was all a ploy to get to eat candy before breakfast!'

'No, but can I?'

Natasha was right, no more melancholy thoughts for today, Peggy thought as unwrapped her candy and popped it into her mouth, and watched her daughter do the same. She realized she was probably breaking all sorts of parenting rules, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

It was Christmas after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a lot longer with Peggy and Nat joining everyone else in large party, but I decided to end it here, so I could at least post something. Unless something comes up, the next chapter will hopefully be up in a more timely manner.


End file.
